


Cursed The Seven Deadly Sins

by DestielAutomaticShip



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cursed Dean, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2018-09-28 12:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 41,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10100468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestielAutomaticShip/pseuds/DestielAutomaticShip
Summary: So what happens when Dean gets dragged into a vampire nest but comes out with much more than a flesh wound. Dean is going to experience pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, and sloth, or as their more commonly known the seven deadly sins.





	1. Ohio- Its not vampires

A Warehouse.

Of course, it's a warehouse.

Why is it, that whenever a monster wants to hide somewhere, it has to be someplace cold and dark? Why can't they ever pick some place clean? Or at least warm? Even demons have more class for Christ's sake...

Dean barely has time to finish his thoughts when a cold trickle of water manages to find its way from one of the metal beams high above his head to down the back of his neck and he bites back a hiss behind gritted teeth, resisting the violent urge to flinch. "Freaking vampires," Dean mumbles. "Always with the cold n' creepy." He carefully steps through the warehouse, a gun in his hands and a syringe of deadman's blood nestled tightly in his back pocket. The building is shadowed in darkness apart from a glimpse of moonlight shining through broken windows, so mostly everything is just silhouettes of cracked glass and rotten wood covering concrete flooring. Wood creaks under the weight of Deans boots and he grimaces at the sound.

A fellow hunter gave them the tip about this place. Apparently, it's a huge vampires nest and the hunter didn't have time to deal with it, so that's when the Winchesters step in -it's meant to be filled head to toe with these bloodsuckers and a kill or be killed situation, but the vampires don't seem to be getting the picture. So two arguments and one phone call to Bobby later confirmed that what he needed to do was 'shut up and get on with it'. And that's how Dean now finds himself tracking the son's of bitches far into the abandoned parts of town; more specifically inside this old warehouse where Dean is now on a hunt in the middle of the night inside the creature's temporary lair, waiting for something, anything to happen. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out clicking it to life. "Dean?" Sam's voice vibrates through the phone and Dean quickly throws his hand over the speaker to quieten it. "I'm here Sam." He whispers and continues trudging through the rubble, taking note of the blood trails on the wall in front of him. "Good, anything happened yet?" Sam asks, worry seeping through his voice. "No nothing yet, just a crappy building and a bit of blood." Dean answers, stepping around a heap of broken metal that seems to have used to been part of the roof. A collapsing roof, great. Just what he needs.

"Really nothing? That's... weird." Sam states, the sound of his keyboard being tapped in the background. "I should have come with you." He mumbles because of course the only thing Sam inherits from Dean is his stubborn ass personality and refuses to drop the fact that yeah he probably should have come with Dean "Yeah, well I need you in the motel for research so quit whining." Dean orders tediously, pointing his flashlight and forming a cone-shaped circle of light at a few misshapen objects. Sam is silent for a while and Dean can practically feel his bitch-face coming through the phone. "Don't start Sam." He sighs.

"But Dean you have to admit it's suspicious." Sam whines and Dean sighs again, resisting the urge to hang up the phone. "Sam I don't know why he didn't have time to sort this place out, maybe he ate a bad quesadilla? Just shut up and tell me where I need to go." He hisses through the phone. Sam lets out a long sigh, followed by a huff before he mumbles out a short, "Fine." Dean smirks to himself and uses his feet to kick some broken wood out of his way, being careful to look for any more signs of blood. 

"Okay so get this, I was searching through some paperwork dating from 57' to 2000', and I found a death report claiming that one of the workers was killed on site. According to this, his body was never found but after his death missing people reports came out like clockwork ranging from teens on a school trip to the actual owner until eventually the whole factory got shut down because of 'unsafe working conditions'." Dean peeks around the corner and pauses when he sees something move through the tall shards of fallen roof. "So you're saying it's ghosts instead of vampires?" He whispers into the phone and holds his flashlight to his chest to hide the light. 

The figure doesn't seem to notice him and continues moving until it disappears behind some drywall. Dean shifts around the fallen metal, slowly following behind the shadow. "Yes and no," Sam answers uncertainly, restarting the constant tapping on his keyboard. Dean sighs and shines his flashlight down the end of the narrow hallway ahead of him before continuing straight on. "Wow, thanks for the great insight Sam, but I'm gonna need a bit more than a freaking guess." The whole building groans at Deans every step and howls in protest whenever he touches anything other than the floor. A spark of light illuminates the space around him, the blinding light momentarily stopping him in his tracks as he tries to rub away the coloured spots clouding his vision. He follows it into a narrow hallway where another bright glow crackles in the air like a set of small fireworks and stops in his tracks.

"Dean?" Sam calls from the other end of the phone. Dean shushes him and presses his back against the wall to avoid being seen by whoever or whatever is there. "Yeah Sam, there's something ahead but I can't see what it is from where I am," Dean mutters and flicks his flashlight off. Another flash of light comes from within the first cut way, this time, accompanied by voices; there deep and rough, like whoever's speaking needs a serious throat sweet. The speaking becomes louder and clearer as Dean shuffles closer and closer until he can work out a few of the words. "Nomine Catharina...Alica..Damus Aditus.. in promissione.." Latin, of course, it's always Latin.

Dean holds the phone between his ear and shoulder while cocking the hammer of his gun, so he's ready for a surprise attack. "Dean, don't dive into this. You don't know what you're up against, you're not prepared! Just wait until I get there." Sam tries to convince Dean, as he shuffles around in their motel room, packing guns and knives into his duffel. "Sam calm down. I can handle this, it'll be a piece of cake. As you said it's probably just a ghost or something." Dean assures, inching forwards to try and see what's on the other side or, at least, catch a glimpse of whatever he's up against. "Dean no- Stop-" The shuffling through the phone becomes clearer and the sound of the impala starting up rumbles low in the background. Dean steps out into the middle of the archway, gun in one hand and demon knife in the other. 

The light dies in one quick movement and a woman with jet black hair, hard features, and pale skin awaits in front of Dean. She looks no older than thirty and the dress she's wearing shows off a petite figure as it ties in at the waist. However her fashion sense isn't what catches Dean's attention, the woman is practically concealed in hex bags, over thirty wrapped around her body and her hands holding more, aiming them all at Dean. "Um, Sam I'm gonna have to call you back," Dean smiles awkwardly at the woman, dropping his gun and raising his free hand slowly in some kind of surrender. The woman look's like a human bomb and he knows this is one of those times in life when shooting your way out would only make things worse. Dean hates those times in life. "Why?" Sam questions, faint music playing from the impala's stereo.

A dark chuckle comes from behind him and he tilts his head back, suddenly finding himself surrounded by two other figures their faces veiled by the darkness. "Because it's not vampires Sam," He sighs. "It's witches." The dark haired girl smirks and then Dean's out like a light: Sam left on the phone calling his name and Dean not knowing what the hell is going to happen.


	2. Ohio- It's witches

Dean blinks slowly, finally coming to and groaning at what feels like the worst hangover ever hammering inside his head. What the hell. Was he hit over the head with a brick? He rolls his neck and shoulders each joint producing its own new ache. How long has he been sat here for? Groggy and confused, Dean lazily opens his eyes and glances around. "Jesus." He mumbles reaching up to rub his head but wincing when a rough material scratches against his skin. chair rope

The room remains immersed in darkness apart from the cold, hesitant light streaming in through the cracked skylights above him and casting eerie shadows across the walls. Wood and rubble have been removed from the floor unlike the rest of the warehouse and it looks fairly sparse except for what Dean can make out as a table and something that resembles a very small tree stumps placed around the floor. "He's awake." A whisper voices from across the room, followed by a canon of rustling. Dean squints into the shadows, trying to catch a glimpse of the figure but his mind is too hazy to focus on anything.

He sits back in the chair trying to force the rope upwards and wriggles his leg to see if his pocket knife is still in his jeans but the denim rubs thinly against his thigh. No pocket knife. Dean startles when the room is lit up and he just about has time to flinch when an unknown hand connects with his face. The slap to his cheek hurts like a bitch and he drops his head backwards disorientated. Dean scowls at the light flickering above him and it takes a few second for his vision to adjust before he can register his surroundings. The one light gradually transitions into three ceiling lights as they swing gently around twenty feet in the air above his head, creaking softly as if they are going to fall at any moment.

As he lifts his head blood seeps out from his nose and Dean cringes as it clots above his lip before slowly spilling over, leaving him with a bitter metallic taste in his mouth. Jesus that thing knocked the crap out of him. Dean spits out as much of the blood as he can before scanning the room. To the left of him is a medium sized table covered with a faded black sheet that has had a pentagram painted onto the middle of it. There's a revolting stench of rotting flesh hanging in the air like ash after a fire and Dean barely contains the urge to gag as it hits the back of his throat; he soon finds the source of the smell when he notices a lovely wreath of dead animals and blood strewn across the floor around him. Placed around him in wavering lines are at least thirty black at white candles, each carrying its own vague aroma that only succeeds in making it harder for Dean to breathe.

He notices a shift from within the shadows and scowls when a very familiar black haired figure creeps out from within them. For a few seconds, they just glare at each other trying to figure out what the others next moves are until eventually two more women step into the light the first one with brown hair and the second with auburn, each wearing the same black dress and expressionless faces. "Dean Winchester." The witch spits out his name as she circles him like a predator circling its prey. He catches her eyes and clicks his tongue with a wink. "The one and only." She growls and she marches forwards and Dean quickly prepares himself for another slap but the other women step in before she can get close enough.

"Your brother's not with you." The redhead says it as if she's only just realised that there isn't another body in the room and watches Dean suspiciously. "Where is he?" She asks, glowering down at him. Dean scowls at her for mentioning Sam and automatically looks around himself to check on his brother even though he's not in the room. If they know about him and Sam then they know Sam's going to be on his way, if not here already, and that completely removes any element of surprise from Dean's escape plan. Sam barging in on his own without a plan is never going to happen, he may be Deans brother but he sure as hell doesn't have Deans idiotic mindset, so if the witches are waiting for his brother then at least it will give him some more time. A shrill of anxiety crawls up Dean's spine at the thought of Sam being ambushed but he quickly pushes it down and throws on his best grin.

"You really think I'd come here alone?" He bluffs. "Me and my brother aren't the only ones hunting you, there's a helluva lot more people just like us waiting around the corner." Dean shrugs and experimentally tugs at the rope around his wrists. He sighs in relief when it loosens the tight grip it has on him but still the struggle doesn't help untie the rope. The problem is, unlike most of your everyday demons and monsters, witches usually have more of a knack for not getting their hands dirty, so if you end up perfectly fine after double-crossing a witch chances are you'll either end up with a razor blade mysteriously lodged in your throat or your face burnt off in the bathtub. So, if you just so happen to get captured by a witch and wake up tied to a chair your chances of having a quick death evaporate into thin air along with your chances of escaping.

The women seem to ponder on the idea of whether or not to believe Dean's bluff but apparently decide against it and turn away from him. They walk around the room carefully blowing out each candle until the only ones left lit are the ones on top of the table, then crowd around the table itself. They glance at each other, then back at him with sardonic grins cracking their faces before looking down at the floor. The brunette is the first to speak. "Non est hic homo a daemone angelus peccavit hic aut aliqua bestia, occiderit, reus erit maledictus et illi concupierunt." Dean catches only a glimpse of what she's saying as she quientends her voice with each word but he knows it's a spell, a freaking powerful one. He watches as the women each cut open an alive snake and drain the blood into a large bowl, all of them adding herbs and crushing different items into the mixture. "Non est hic homo versipellem esse, lamia daemon seu angelus, sed homo qui peccavit. Et ideo petimus maledicere diabolo eum ad sepeliendum animi imperio intra eas punitur. Hoc sentiamus: si superstes experieris omni peccato, ira, superbia, invidia, ira, gula et luxuria." The redhead joins in with the other witch and soon they begin chanting as they tear open other animals and repeat the process.

Disgusted, Dean turns away and pulls at the rope while the witches are distracted. The rope slips a little and slides harshly across his skin, leaving red marks around the flesh of his wrist. "Et ideo petimus maledicere diabolo eum ad sepeliendum animi imperio intra eas punitur. Hoc sentiamus: si superstes experieris omni peccato, ira, superbia, invidia, ira, gula et luxuria." Quickly they all begin chanting, their words getting louder and louder each syllable. Dean faces them and suddenly all three witches are looking back at him. "Et patimini, et patimini ." The room becomes hot and stuffy even though it was close to freezing just seconds ago, it's somehow harder to breathe as if something was holding onto his lungs and squeezing.

Dean struggles to catch his breath as his skin burns and itches, a million separate thoughts and emotions thrumming through his body, exploding all at once. He groans at the sharp pain that follows and sways forwards in his seat, a sickening feeling swirling in his gut as if he's going to throw up. The chanting stops and a cold metal makes contact with Dean's forearm before pain writhes at the wound, it shouldn't be as painful as it is, he's cut his arm in that exact stop thousands of times, but it doesn't stop the scream that rips itself from his throat. Everything's, hot, white pain and every moment he makes burns him from the inside-out.

The witch raises the bowl of blood and herbs above his head and yells: "Monvoisin nobis Maria, Maria Laveau et Agnes Waterhouse, vos tenentur ad infernum." Dean closes his eyes and cries out, but it comes out as a silent gasp as the woman drips the blood onto his neck and hair. However, the blood quickly becomes an easy comfort as it soothes his burning skin and washes over him like a protective blanket; it doesn't burn or hurt, it's almost a relief compared to before, but still it doesn't let him catch his breath and he feels as if he's suffocating, likes he's underwater and can't reach the surface.

"Dean!" Sam's voice signals his brother's entrance and somewhere to the left of him there's a loud bang that startles Deans eyes open. There's gunshots and shouting but Dean can hardly breath let alone keep his eyes open when suddenly a bright light shines in the room. At first Dean shies away from it as it blazes through his closed eyelids but when an electric pulse vibrates through his body, his eyes shoot open in shock from the pleasantly fierce feeling. Dean blinks repeatedly and stares open mouthed at the man before him. Cas? His eyes fall shut and he barely manages to voice his thoughts as a confused, "Cas?" passes through his lips.


	3. Ohio- Envy

Dean wakes up in a haze of sharp pains and the feeling of cold water being poured over his head. He gulps at the air and shoots up on whatever uncomfortable flooring he's laying on. "Dean?" Sam? Dean lazily feels around himself and easily falls backwards when his hands glide across a soft mattress and cold sheets. He rolls onto his side and carefully opens his eyes. Thankfully, the only light on is a small bedside lamp because honestly, Dean doesn't know if he can handle bright colours right now- or any colours ever. He follows the lights shadow as it runs across the motel's mouldy yellow wallpaper and blinks slowly at his brother's face then down to the ugly flower patterned blanket laid across him.

Dean rubs his forehead and pulls a face as he pushes the blanket away from him. "Dude, what the hell happened?" His voice is scratchy like it hasn't been used in weeks and he swallows to get rid of the dry taste. Sam passes him a glass of water and watches him as he drinks the cup in a few quick sips. When Dean passes the cup back to his brother Sam noticeably relaxes before tensing again and responding irritably. "You were almost killed, remember?" Dean stares at Sam -Almost killed?- Oh yeah witches, before nodding. "Yeah, yeah I remember. How did you get me here anyway?" Sam's eyes flicker behind the bed and Dean follows it past the puke green carpet to a grey recliner that's been covered with a beige trench coat and suit jacket in between the two bed's. "Cas?"

"Hello, Dean." Dean regrets speaking when it makes Castiel straighten up and his usual stoic expression return. Seeing the angel lounged on the recliner is the first time he's seen Cas look relaxed in a long time especially without his coat and jacket it makes him look strangely human. "Were you- when did you get here?" Dean asks as he moves to the edge of the bed. The more he moves the clearer things become and his memories come back in flashes. He remembers the bright light and seeing Castiel before he blacked out, so he must have been there. Why else would he be here? Dean thinks bitterly, also remembering that he hasn't heard from Castiel in over a month.

Castiel stares at him a bit longer than necessary and copies Sam's movements of scanning him before answering. "I arrived when Sam prayed for me." Dean tilts his head around to look at Sam who nods slowly. Dean knows he's being lied to but his head hurts too much to figure out why so he just believes the lie. "Yeah, well Sam's just being a girl, I'm fine Cas, you really didn't need to come." Castiel tilts his head and frowns and Dean has to refrain himself from scowling at the offended look on the angel's face. He's just woken up from almost being plasmolyzed, he's not in the mood to play mother hen. Castiel opens his mouth to speak but Dean swiftly cuts him off.

"Anyway, did you manage to gank The Witches of Eastwick while I was out?" Both his brother and the angel give him a look that shows they have no idea what he's talking about and Dean rolls his eyes. You'd think your kid brother who was born in the eighties and an angel who's basically watched the earth go by from the beginning would know about such programs. He sighs. "You know, the creepy witch chicks that tried to kill me." Sam makes a noise that sounds like he understands Dean's reference, but Dean knows he doesn't. He sure as hell tried to keep Sam away from all supernatural TV programs when he was younger and he doubts Sam's guilty pleasure is watching Cher and Michelle Pfeiffer when Dean isn't around. "Dean your insides were shutting down and your ribs collapsed on themselves. I think there are more important matters to be focusing on than a witch," Castiel growls and gestures angrily at Dean.

"And may I ask why you thought it was a good idea to go alone into a vampire nest?" Castiel scowls at the two hunters as he stands and aggressively pulls at his sleeves. Dean scowls back at the angel and stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest. "It's our job, and I can handle myself just fine thanks. Getting hurt is part of the job." Castiel and Dean glare at each other from across the room, waiting for the other to give in first.

Sam eventually interrupts them after a minute of non-stop staring.

"Look we're sorry Cas, we didn't know it was going to turn into a witch hunt. We were told it was a small vampires nest and didn't think we'd need a complex plan." Sam's lying. He and Dean both knew what they were up against but Dean made it clear that he was going alone. There's silence for a while as Cas' eyes drift to Sam's, and Dean doesn't even need to look to tell that his brothers doing his puppy dog eyes. After only a moment of looking into Sam baby browns, Cas is either convinced or just decides to believe the lie because his eyes advert to the carpet and he drops the subject. "Fine," He sighs. "But next time don't go in alone, I don't care if it is part of the job, stop getting hurt. I'm not always going to be able to put you back together." With one final glance at the brothers, the angel disappears, taking his suit jacket and coat with him.

Dean doesn't want to think about what Cas might mean by that so instead rolls his eyes and wanders to the fridge, trying to hold on to the spec of anger that has already disappeared as he grabs a beer and throws himself onto the couch. He twists off the beer cap, mumbling out a vocabulary that consists of: 'stubborn angels' and 'he's being a baby' while glaring at the ceiling. Sam sighs and pulls out the wooden chair hidden under what's meant to be a dining room table, but in reality is more like a small square of wood jammed onto two sticks, and sits down. He lifts the screen of his laptop to bring it to life and glances at his brother. "You could have at least thanked him." He scolds, not even bothering to stop tapping at his keyboard. Dean rolls his eyes and sips from his beer before turning the television on and drifting into the black hole which is reality TV.


	4. Ohio- We don't do jealousy

Sam sighs and runs a hand through his hair as a shiver makes it's way down his spine. Their motel room is just below freezing and more than half of the things are broken or don't work properly; but it has two beds and a TV, so he can't complain.

Sam slumps down on one of the motel couches and shifts as it scratches against his arms. He glances at his brother who's sprawled out across the other couch apparently having no problem with the harsh material and he can't help but envy Dean's ability to get comfortable on any surface. Castiel has gone AWOL and hasn't called since he healed Dean, and Sam can tell it both annoys and worries his older brother; even as Dean lays across the couch, aimlessly flicking through the TV channels, he still checks his phone every few minutes and hasn't put it down anywhere out of his reach. 

Sam worries his bottom lip contemplating whether or not to bring up Cas. There are only so many diseases that involve a temperature and excessive sleep as their symptoms and Sam's pretty sure a couple of witches didn't cover Dean in blood just to give him a fever, so having Cas around could at least get him some information out of Dean. On the other hand, Cas hadn't exactly given him any information about what could be happening to Dean either. Actually, Cas hadn't given him any information about anything, the dude had just appeared and healed Dean, Sam hadn't prayed, hadn't even thought about asking for the angel's help. Cas had lied to Dean but Sam doesn't know why. So for now, the only real option he has is to sit and wait.

Dean flicks through the same seven channels continuously, until he stops on a shopping channel and sits up so fast you would have thought the couch had burnt him. "What?" Sam asks, sitting up. Dean pouts. Actually, pouts. "We don't have that," Dean points at the TV, which shows a crappy blender being held awkwardly by a woman in her mid-forties who's wearing a fake smile and a bright pink blazer. "So?" Sam drags out the word and looks at Dean incredulously. "We should get it." He suggests, crossing his arms over his chest. "Okay?" Sam agrees, lost for anything else to say. "Hey, are you feeling alright?" He asks slowly, watching his brother scowl at the TV. But Dean doesn't say anything and continues watching the TV going from envious to bitter in seconds.

But after a few minutes, and a few more beers, it's just funny. "Even that! Do we actually own anything?" Sam stares at him both amused and confused. "Dean, why would we want a Christmas tree, it's February!" He exclaims, laughing as he sips from his beer. Dean huffs and shuffles defensively in his seat. "Because Sam, they have it." He says matter-of-factly. "We should steal it!" Dean yells at Sam as if it is the most brilliant idea in the world and Sam can't help but chuckle at him. His brother must be completely wasted, which only makes him laugh more as he mumbles out a cheery, "Okay Dean." and drains the last of his beer.


	5. Ohio- Sleeping rough

Sunlight peeks in through the brown curtains of the small motel room and shining the morning rays of light onto the dull blue carpet, warming it for the next pair of feet. The hum and occasional splutter of a car grumbling to life echoes through the window, the unmistakable sound of a one night stand fleeing from the stranger they woke up to. 

Sam lazily lifts his head from the hard pillow beneath him, grimacing when he feels the greasy tufts of his hair glued to his forehead from the sticky climate and the thin layer of sweat that has cemented his clothes to his skin. His head is starting to feel the effects of last night's beers by spawning a consistent throb behind his eyes and forging a hangover to remind him to not drink more than three beers within the course of an hour. Sam cringes at the thought of getting up, but eventually nature forces his hand by shining a thin stream of sunlight in his eyes so that no matter how much he tries to cover them he fails miserably. Reluctantly, Sam rolls off of his motel bed pushing back the curtains and spraying dust-spores around the humid room to open the window.

Engulfing the cool breeze, he opens his eyes to wake himself up. Sam watches inattentively as the dead grass quivers in the light wind, pieces flying away at random and getting caught in the larger plants and shrubbery. The sky's blue is veiled in a haze of light gold, as it sometimes is in the early summer: it's silent, warm, the sky without a cloud. If he tried hard enough he could probably imagine that they were on holiday somewhere, somewhere exotic and relaxing instead of broken down and filthy; and that he and his brother only went to these types of places every couple of years -instead of every couple of days- because they actually had places to be. But what's the point in imagining, hunting is their life and always will be, he's grown accustomed to the idea of it and has learnt to accept it -even if it does mean shaving points off of his life.

Sam brushes absently at the dust coating the window sill and glances over to the two single beds where his brother is lying face down and definitely hung over. He rolls his eyes and shoves on a pair of jeans and a black top, knowing Dean will need something to eat and drink when he wakes up. Sam grabs the keys to the impala, quickly scribbling down a note so Dean won't freak out and heads out the door checking the time before he leaves.

++

It's noon by the time Sam gets back to the motel, coffee and burger in hand, and Dean is still not up. Sam sighs and puts the food and drink onto the table before walking over to his brother and gently shaking him. "Dean, wake up," Sam orders and pulls the covers from over Dean to try to wake him up. However, Dean just turns over to face away from him without so much as a mumble. "Fine. Whatever, stay in bed." Sam wanders over to his laptop to begin research not having much else to do and sips idly from Deans coffee.

After an hour, Sam gets worried. Dean's barely moved since Sam came into the room, apart from the occasional twist from side to side and the leisurely murmur. "Dean, you need to get up." Sam pushes lightly on his brother's shoulder and Dean's body goes limp against his hand. "Come on, Dean, at least give me an answer." He prompts, but now Dean is hardly even moving. Sam quickly holds his hand under his brother's nose and is more than thankful for the weak breath across his finger tips. 

"You-um-Can you open your eyes, Dean?" Sam tries again to wake his brother and once again gains no response. Sam pulls the thin covers under Dean's chin and then grabs his own covers and places them over the top.

"Can you even hear me? Dean, you need to talk to me." Sam watches as his brother squirms under the covers before going still again. Sam instantly turns him onto his side abolishing any chance of Dean choking on his tongue if he has a seizure and crouches on the floor in post-panic.

He thinks back to what Dean used to do when he was ill- blanket, hot water, a glass of water- and sets a blanket over Dean, along with the set of covers and slides a hot water bottle next to him just in case before placing a glass of water beside him on the bedside table. 

++

Sam's tried everything, he's shaken him, screamed at him even put him in a bath of cold water but nothings worked. "Um, okay Dean, just- keep breathing." Sam mumbles and fishes for his phone in his pocket. He quickly presses in the digits of Bobby's phone number and listens as the phone beeps and gradually connects. 

"Come on, pick up." He pleads and watches Dean from the corner of his eye. 

"Yaj." 

Sam turns to see Dean squirming again and instantly stands by his side. "What?" He crouches down by the side of the bed and turns Deans head, watching for any signs of movement. "Cas." Deans face twists unpleasantly and Sam rubs his back soothingly.

"Cas? Cas." Sam immediately kneels down and clasps his hands together. 

"Castiel, you need to come down here." He orders, closing both eyes. No response. Sam huffs, resting his forehead against his interlocked fingers. 

"It's Dean he hasn't woken up all day-" Sam rubs soothingly at Deans back when he begins squirming again. 

"-and he's really cold." He glances at Deans face that seems to be more peaceful now and unclasps his hands. However, this time, the sound of wings echo in the room and Castiel appears on the opposite side of the bed, trench coat and all. 

"What's happened?" He asks, his forehead creasing with worry as he stares down at Dean. 

"I don't know Cas, last night he was being a bit strange, but I just thought he was drunk, and now he won't get up." Castiel frowns and a flicker of emotion appears on his face but disappears as quickly as it arrives; he uses his index finger to turn Deans face towards him and Dean curls over in the direction of the angel, moving the most he has all day.

Cas stares at Dean's closed eyes like he would if they were open, and a wave of tension washes over the room. For the first minute or so Sam watches Cas intently, hoping for Dean eyes to open, for a bigger movement than a twitch, but after five minutes of non-stop staring and no movement from Dean, he decides research is a better way to spend his time, instead of watching an angel, watch his brother in silence. 

Sam searches for illnesses that can relate to Deans symptoms but once again nothing helpful appears; especially when your symptoms are being overly happy, cold and sleeping all the time. Sam sighs and his attention is brought to Castiel, who at some point got a chair and sat down. 

His appearance is much like the last time Sam had seen him, his trench coat and suit jacket have been discarded over the chair and his sleeves rolled up. The memory of Deans body, lifeless and covered in blood is still raw in Sams mind and it makes his stomach flip at how close he was to losing his brother and no matter how hard he tries he can't remove the thought from his head. Sam coughs very unsubtly and catches Castiel's gaze. 

"So?" Sam drags the word out, stepping over to the bed almost cautiously. 

Cas glances out of the corner of his eye to look at Dean as if checking if he's there before standing. "He's okay. Alive at least-" He tries to scowls, but his eyes soften the moment they reach Dean. 

"He has been cursed."

"Cursed?" Sam looks at Castiel as if he's speaking a different langue and freezes for a moment unable to think of the appropriate reaction to what he's being told.

"As in witches cursed?" Apparently, the best reaction is to point out the obvious. Sam runs a hand through his hair and takes in a sharp breath through his nose. 

"So he's going to be asleep forever unless we find a cure?" He guesses, trying his best not to panic. "Won't that.. you know..." Kill him goes unspoken but both of them know what he means. 

"The witches seem to have cursed him. I don't understand why it didn't appear until now as it's very powerful, but I can wake him up and that should be enough until we find a cure." Sam relaxes slightly and he glances at Dean. 

"Thanks, Cas." The corner of Cas' mouth twitches and he moves to the side of Deans bed, raising his hand to hover over his forehead. Castiel presses down on his forehead and Dean begins to blink slowly. His eyes open and Sam stares hopefully. 

The most warning Sam gets is a pair of hands flying up before Dean throws himself forwards and scrambles to the headboard. He catches Cas' eyes with a confused stare before glancing between the two and letting out a breathy chuckle. 

"Dude. If I wake up one more time on a bed between you two I'm gonna have to start asking questions." Sam chuckles in relief, thrilled for the first time in his life to hear Deans stupid jokes; however, Cas is unamused by the hunter and crosses his arms over his chest. 

Dean grins and swings his legs over the side of the bed to stand, but ends up with his legs either side of Castiel. Dean visibly gulps and looks up. 

"Hey, Cas."

"Do you feel okay?" Castiel questions tentatively, uncrossing his arms and transforming into a much less intimidating Cas; Dean relaxes and suspiciously scans the angel. 

"I'm fine." He insists as he stiffly rises from the bed, the mattress creaking under the lost weight. He stumbles at his first step but quickly straightens up to try and cover it, and walks into the bathroom to splash water onto his face. 

Castiel shifts uncomfortably and studies the bathroom door. "This started last night?" He asks. Sam glances at the bathroom door before answering. 

"Yeah, but not the sleeping. He was just a bit.. weird and kept talking about not having things that showed up on TV. I thought he was drunk." Sam confirms and copies the angel's movements, shifting from foot to foot. Dean steps out of the bathroom and glances at Castiel. 

"Could you not talk about me like I'm dead?" It wasn't meant to sound so harsh but he can't help it sometimes. However, his comment doesn't seem to bother Castiel in the slightest as he watches Dean with sharp eyes.

"Could you not keep putting yourself in situations where you can get killed?" Castiel replies with ten times more sting. They each hold their ground and Sam watches as the two once again glare at each other from across the room. Sometimes they're just ridiculous. 

"Dean, you've been cursed." Sam blurts frustratedly pulling the two men out of their glaring competition. Dean looks at Sam with an unreadable expression but the hard look in his eyes shows his disbelief. 

"What?" 

Sam stays silent as he waits for his brother's reaction. "You were cursed." Castiel repeats. "What- when?" Dean stumbles over his words, a now taut look on his face as he realises they must be telling the truth. 

"It was the witches, I didn't get there quick enough," Sam explains and Dean can see the instant guilt in his brother's eyes. Of course, Deans never going to blame Sam for this, its Deans fault but he doesn't think now's the time to play the blame-game.

"No, it's not Sammy," Dean assures. "Anyway, what's the worst that can happen? What- I'm gonna pass out every five seconds?" Dean guesses somewhat hysterically. 

"No Dean, this won't happen again, it has subsided. It seems to be a complex curse, quite ancient actually. I'm afraid that's why I couldn't identify it at first." Castiel sends Dean an apologetic look which Dean dismisses with a nod. He looks sceptically at the ground, before carrying on. 

"The curse is a more of a defence mechanism, used on enemies as it seems to feed off of shock." 

"Freaking fantastic!" Dean remarks sarcastically and flings himself onto the hard couch in one uncoordinated motion, earning himself a bitch-face from both Sam and Cas. He waves his hand in the air, the rest of his body hidden by the couch and points to the floor. 

"Okay, well you guys have fun with that, I'm going to lay here and watch TV while, you," He points to Sam. 

"Are going to stop giving me that look, and you," He points to Castiel. "Are not going to not blame yourself for this." Dean's head lifts and he gives them both a pointed look before laying back down again. Cas sighs uncomfortably and opens and closes his hands repeatedly by his side. He moves his mouth as if to speak but seems to change his mind and disappears in a flutter of wings, leaving Dean to watch crappy reality shows and for Sam to search through the internet in an attempt of finding a curse that could match Deans symptoms.


	6. Ohio, Kentucky- Mammoth Cave

_There's just darkness at first,_ _an inane oblivion cradling him while he sleeps. Each and every nightmare that forces its way into his head starts like this. The darkness is almost peaceful for the few seconds it lasts, to be able to have a dreamless sleep for once in his whole damn life is something only darkness can achieve, but the peaceful feeling quickly evaporates along with the darkness as he slips into a dim illusion._

_He opens his eyes, not remembering when he'd shut them and glances around. He remembers being here a few months ago when he, Sam and Cas had fought a group of weres. The entire pack had been_ _-quite literally-_ _stealing hearts left right and centre as some sort of werewolf hunger games, and they'd been hiding out in a house hidden in the woods,_ _nevertheless,_ _a house the Winchesters found. The hunt had swiftly ended when o_ _ne of the wolves tried ambushing Cas with an angel blade and had instead choked on Deans knife wedged between its heart and shoulder blade._

_Dean turns and startles when he sees his brother and Cas standing behind him. They glance at each other then back at Dean with cautious expressions_ _. Dean tries to speak, to ask what the hell is happening, but he can only mouth the words as his voice refuses to cooperate._ _Sam reaches for the door handle and Dean flinches at the click of the lock, the scenario of what's about to happen playing itself out in his head._

_Instantly he tries to warn his brother but still his voice doesn't work. His whole body is paralysed on the spot and his attempts to move are pointless._ _He shouts and pushes at the invisible force holding him in place but all his yelling is to no avail and his brother and best friend walk through the door completely unaware of what awaits them inside. A long silence stretches out as they disappear inside the werewolves lair, the undisturbed calm verging Dean to the edge of insanity as he stands frozen in place._

_T_ _he door slams shut in what seems like an attempt to escape and Dean flinches at the sound._ _Immediately the silence fades and is replaced with the sound of gunshots echoing from inside. When_ _T finally he can move,_ _and before his mind has_ _time to prepare itself he's already sprinting towards_ _the front door. Dean kicks the door harder and harder_ _until it breaks with a satisfying snap and he can force his body through the gap._

_Although he's seen how messy it is inside it's somehow more horrific this time, as if this hadn't been a hunt and as if this was the crime scene he was walking in on. Even the puddles of blood seem larger. At a second glance, the puddles seem more like rivers flooding the floor beneath him. He grimaces at the dead bodies strewn across the room and holds his breath as he crosses the room to block out the vile odour. Dean freezes at the sound of Sam's voice and turns in the direction of where it came. "Sam?" He calls, stepping down the hallway until he reaches a large arch in the wall._

_Steadying himself, Dean leans against the door frame as his knee's go weak at the sight in front of him. Blood_ _is pooling underneath Castiel's back and staining his once pristine white shirt and tanned trench coat. The blades made a clean cut straight through his stomach and he's losing consciousness if the dazed expression on his face is anything to go by. He could have prevented this. No. No, he did prevent it. He knows this isn't real._ _Dean is about to turn away when he hears Cas' voice and it tears right through him at how broken he sounds. "Dean..."_ _His legs carry him without him knowing and he_ _slides across the floor practically falling by Cas' side._

_Watching, the scene in front of him, Dean doesn't speak, he doesn't think he can. The weight of what could have been Cas' death is pressing him down into the floorboards. "You need to-" Dean startles as the scene before him stutters and glitches like tv static. "Get out of here-" Cas orders, the whole thing disorientated in Dean's eyes as if he's seeing it through a funhouse mirror at a carnival. "Dean-" Dean recoils in fear away from Cas' body and blinks rapidly trying to get his vision to go back to normal. For a second Cas looked like..._

_"De-eean," A burning shiver projects down Dean's spine, he knows that voice anywhere. His body closes in on itself as a pathetic kind of protection from the person that started all this, the nightmares, the fears, the torture. The sour flavour is back in his mouth and he doesn't know whether he's going to throw up or pass out, he can't even muster the courage to open his eyes and see what is in front of him. Alastair. "Are you scared?" A snicker echoes around the room. "Afraid I might hurt yah?"_

_Dean opens his eyes and all of a sudden he's standing alone in the room with Cas in front of him. He nearly hugs the angel in relief but stops himself at the last minute out of fear of having a panic attack. "Jesus Cas am I-"_

_"Cas, huh? Got a little cosy with the angel while I was away?" Cas' iris' explode drowning the blue and white of his eyes with a slated black and corrupting the familiar image Dean remembers. A smirk crawls onto Cas' face twisting itself into a menacing grimace, the sheer force of it darkening the room and leaving a poignant smell in the air._ _Dean swallows down the bitter taste that's building in his throat, unable to pull his eyes away from the two clouded voids staring back at him, both taunting and repelling him. Cas' tongue darts out to wet his lips in a predatory manner, the simple movement making Dean experience a type of vulnerability he hasn't felt since being down in the pit._

_He flinches as something sharp sliced across his cheek. In a blink the dream transforms and he's back in hell, demons surrounding him some grinning at him with burnt and wiry wings while others snarl at him revealing pointed teeth and forked tongues.  He only has a few seconds to recover before they all come at him tearing off flesh and muscle. Cas glides forwards his black eyes beaming down at the hunter lying broken on the charred rock floor. Dean feels the heat scald his damaged skin and gags at the stench of his own burning flesh._

_Cas' shadow towers over every inch of light pausing momentarily before hurling himself towards the hunter. His sharp fangs pierce into Deans skin deflating his body like a balloon._

_Eventually, Cas steps back with blood leaking out from between his lips. He grins at Dean and watches as the other demons lift him with ease and cast him onto something cold and unmoving. They strap him down and he knows what's coming next. Dean thrashes around on the floor refusing to stop even when they begin beating him, cutting him, pulling out his insides and-_

Throwing him onto the floor as his restless tossing and turning sends him over the edge of his small motel bed. The sudden impact stuns him for a moment, the transition from nightmare to reality too abrupt for his mind to process. Dean automatically reaches for a weapon but falls back into reality before he can close his hands around one. _God, it had seemed so real._ Dean wipes clumsily at his damp eyes and slowly manages to stand on shaky legs. He curses quietly when he realises his whole body is practically vibrating and slowly slumps down onto the edge of his bed, desperately willing himself to stop thinking. 

He knows he shouldn't be scared, he was raised to purposely block out the emotion but it still doesn't stop him from jolting awake in the middle of the night, screaming at invisible monsters.  _God if his Dad could see him now, he'd probably laugh in his face for being such a wimp._ Dean shudders out a cruel laugh and rubs his eyes, removing the remnants of sleep from them as he reaches for the bottle of whisky on his bedside table. _He wasn't going to be able to sleep again anyway._ The whisky burns as it slides down his throat and he swallows it with a bitter hiss indulging in the numb feeling as his shivers subside even if it is only momentarily. 

Sam rolls over lazily in his bed and Dean regards him carefully, hoping he didn't wake his brother. He doesn't want Sam to see him like this. After a moment of waiting, Dean carefully stands up from his bed and stumbles his way into the bathroom. He leans over the once white sink not yet having the courage or appetite to look at himself in the mirror. A gentle breeze freezes the cold sweat at his hairline and he shivers at the feeling of phantom hands grabbing at his body. 

Eventually, his breathing returns to normal apart from the irregular stutter of breath that comes when closing his eyes but he manages to raise his gaze to the mirror and study his face and the features that never used to be there. He notices the bruise coloured bags under his eyes and the frown that proves to be a permanent reminder of who he really is: a pathetic wannabe who uses his dead dad's music taste and car to give himself a personality. He's worthless, a poison that drags everyone down with him.

Dean glares at the man he sees in the mirror and drops his gaze to the sink. He spins the silver tap and splashes water onto his face, rubbing across his stubble in sharp movements to wake himself up. He grasps onto each side of the sink, grumbling quietly to tell himself to get a grip but it doesn't work this time - _hell when does it ever work_. Sam's loud yawning alerts Dean that he's awake and he forces himself to smile, trying to make it seem convincing even though the movement feels concrete and fake. He exits the bathroom attempting to make his movements casual. "Mornin' Sammy." Dean keeps his eyes trained on the wall instead of his brother and grabs his clothes to get changed for the day ahead.

**...**

_I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride._ _I'm wanted dead or alive,_ _Wanted dead or alive. Sometimes I sleep, sometimes it's not for days And the people I meet always go their separate ways ..._

It's only when Sam shoves his shoulder Dean realises he's singing out loud. He stops and pulls a face at his younger brother who's grinning beside him, before roughly shoving his hands inside his jacket pockets. Sam snorts at him and casually glances around as if they weren't being boiled alive under the thirty-degree heat. 

"Why is this taking so long?" Dean whines and slumps dramatically against one of the large rocks that create the line for the cave. "Dean it's a hot day and we're at a popular tourist attraction, you honestly didn't think the line would be short, did you? Anyway, it's a case, either we wait in line for another five minutes or we let people die." Sam asks, deliberately quieting his voice for the last part. 

Dean grunts in reply knowing full well he's fighting a losing battle and stands up, stepping on his tiptoes to try and see over the tops of people's heads. He squints as the sun shines in his eyes, casting a long shadow over the cave's entrance. There's a constant hum of chatter from the groups of families and couples surrounding them and every once in a while the loud echo of a penny being tossed down the wishing well that's been placed near the entrance. The cave itself is huge and from a distance looks like it should belong in the Sahara desert with its pale sandy complexion and shining exterior. The consistent hum gets casually louder as a new set of people join the back of the line and Dean grimaces at the thought of being stuck in a cave with them.

"And anyway, since when do you not want a case?" It's pretty simple, Dean isn't in the mood for hunting. He doesn't have the usual rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins or the gut feeling to 'kill anything that isn't human'. Today, Dean wants nothing more than to sit in an air-conditioned room and do anything but think.

"Lines moving," Sam announces as he moves forwards no more than half an inch on the eroded path. Dean rolls his eyes and wipes away the thin layer of sweat that's built across his hairline. _He's pretty sure that he's going to shrivel up or at least die of dehydration if they don't get inside soon_. Dean slides his jacket off of his shoulders regretting his choice to wear leather and slowly shimmies along the walkway.

Dean catches Sam rolling his eyes and smirks; he knows he's being petty but he didn't want to do this case in the first place so it's his right as the older brother to bitch and moan until Sam decides to give up with this dead-end case. Travelling all the way to Kentucky was not his idea of a good day but after a lot of persuading, aka Sam droning on like a broken record, Dean finally caved. _Heh, caved._ Sam had already decided that this was their next case and Dean didn't have the energy to argue.

Apparently, the tourism is at an all-time low today, which Sam assumes is because of the deaths, so the queue is short, which means fewer people and easier ways to sneak off from the tour so at least their job is a bit more straightforward. Although Dean doubts the people around them are the type to do a full up investigation if two strangers were to wander off from the tour, it's just easier to decreases the number of witnesses they have to lie too if the plan goes sideways.

Sam scans over the tops of people's heads, unlike his brother, being tall enough to see over everyone and smiles to himself at the family in front of them. The couple definitely fit the 'apple pie life' description with their 2.5 kids and perfect hair and teeth. He watches as the young boy complains about waiting, while the boy's brother says something about being more excited about the indoor play area and slot machines than the caves themselves and Sam can't help but wonder if that's what their family would have been like if demons hadn't broken them apart. Would Dean had stayed in school for more than a couple of months instead of being forced to follow orders? Would they even be as close as they are now if none of this had happened? 

"So what's the plan Sammy?" Dean asks a little anxiously, pulling Sam out of his daze.

Sam wipes the frown that has worked its way onto his face and replaces it with a set smile. "Okay so get this, a few years ago this boy, Luke Stewart, came on the tour with his family. They weren't anything special, not even locals, only visiting; and the boy got lost in the cave when an apparent 'figure' dragged him away from the tour." He nods towards the stack of rocks as they move forwards closer to the entrance. 

"He was found a couple of weeks after, under a pile of fallen rocks, it was- it was pretty gruesome. The police said that there was no reason the rocks should have fallen and that bad things just happen sometimes. But every year since then, at least, one person has gone missing, each of the victim's friends claiming they've seen the victim 'walking away with someone'. All victims had died until last week when a victim somehow survived the rocks and reported someone pushing him." Dean nodded along in understanding and cocks his eyebrow in surprise. 

"Woah dude. That's.. messed up, and they haven't cancelled the tour?" Sam shrugs and combs a hand through his mane of brown hair. "D'you think one of the workers are involved?" He asks as they stroll into the opening of the cave where the guide is waiting for them in the cool underground air. Dean shrugs. Anyone could be involved.

"Are we all in?" Questions the guide, a young man in a Mammoth Cave fleece, carrying a torch. There's a murmur from the small group standing in the cave opening that everybody is in. "Good." The guide grins. "Now- welcome to Mammoth Cave, where a river flows from the underworld and pagan and Christian legends are abound! Follow me into a world of witches and saints, tragedy and happiness, ghosts and souls!" Sam watches the people around him, checking to see if anyone looks suspicious. The boy in front of them trails his fingers along the wall, grinning at his hands when he pulls them back and is left with an orange dust coating his fingers. Sam copies his movement, noticing the stone icicles going up and down giving the cave a real unnatural feeling. 

After a few more minutes of trying to scare everyone with stories about witches, the guide leads them down a set of steps, hewn into the rock, and they arrive in the 'Witches kitchen'. The room is more like a large chamber, opening out around a subterranean river, its clear, glassy water lit from beneath the surface and glowing gold and green. The guide moves to shine his torch onto a large misshapen rock, close to the water and claims that it's the witches ashes. Sam, of course, is not convinced, the thing looks more like a deformed potato. 

"She was cooking a child in her cauldron when she was sprinkled with holy water by a monk.." Whispers the guide- an obvious out of work actor. Dean sniggers and Sam bites his lip, trying to hold back his own laugh. _If only they knew about what was actually out there._

Hushed whispers come from behind them and Dean turns his head to where they are coming from. Two young boys stand next to each other, one with headphones in, his eyes idly roaming the ceiling while he chews tirelessly on some gum and the other studying the 'witch rock'. Dean ignores them in order to listen to the guide. "..Thousands of cats died in this very cave and many people say that you.." Dean rolls his eyes as the guide tries to be eerie but fails miserably and directs them all down a narrow passageway. Sam moves to talk to a few of the people who somehow he magically knows are locals, _smart ass,_ while Dean continues following the guide around like a sheep.

Deans steps get cut off by the same gum-chewing kid from before who stomps ahead and he scowls at the back of the kids head. An, "Ow!" Yells from beside him and he's met with the boy from before, who was looking at the rock. The boy's rubbing his chest and scowling at the kid in front of Dean. The other kid turns around to make an 'aww, you poor baby' kind of face before pushing his headphones into his ears and walking away. _Brat._ Dean looks down at the boy and feels the sympathetic smile form on his face. "Hey kid, you alright?" He asks. 

The kid seems quite surprised that Dean's talking to him and nods, frowning in the direction of the other boy. "Yeah, he's always like that." Dean nods along as if he can relate to the boy but pauses when he thinks about his and Sam's relationship. As kids they never exactly fought to _hurt_ each other, it was always just teasing or pranks. He glances at Sam then looks back to the kid. "Well you know, I heard karma's a bitch so if I was you, I wouldn't worry about him too much." The boy laughs quietly and murmurs a "Thanks." Before strolling down the trail. Sam soon walks over with an exasperated huff and a disturbed expression. "Find anything Sammy?" Dean smirks and strolls down the narrow passage, his brother following closely behind.


	7. Kentucky- The overwhelming desire for more

"Okay, so why are we here?" Dean questions for what feels like one-hundredth time and Sam groans internally. They both step out of the impala and shut the doors, adjusting their suits as they approach the picket white fence surrounding a pale green house. "This is the victim's parents, you know the ones who were meant to have left town and swore 'they'd never return' after he died?" Sam urges, his forehead creasing at how little Dean actually remembers about the case their working on. 

Dean's eyes dart to the side and scan the air for a while. "Yeah I remember." Sam sighs and sends Dean a face that says 'I can't believe you're my brother' before continuing through the gates and stepping up the light cream porch stairs. Dean moves to reach for the doorbell but Sam grabs his sleeve and stops him. "We should call Cas." He says sternly. Dean shrugs and nods his agreement. "Okay- if we need him." He waits for Sam to reach into his pocket for his phone but Sam doesn't move.

"You prayin' real hard or just waiting for him to appear?" Sam rolls his eyes. "Actually, I was waiting for you to do it."

"What you lost the ability to speak?" Dean grumbles snarkily, crossing his arms over his chest. The thought of Cas sends an unpleasant chill down his spine and he hates it, Cas is his best friend, his brother, _his Family,_ but just the thought of having to talk to him and Dean's practically shaking _._ He shouldn't get a chill like that, especially when Cas has done nothing wrong. 

Sam sends him a pointed look, clearly telling him to shut up and get on with it so Dean swallows down his anxiety and does as he's told. "Yeah, alright." He closes his eyes and sends a short 'prayer' to the angel. _Hey Cas, could you- you know, come down here. We have this case-_ His thoughts trail off when he hears wings flap from beside him.  _Cas and Alastair aren't the same people._

Dean opens his eyes and can't help the small smile that forms on his face as Cas stands next to him, trench coat and all with the same plain expression, messed up hair and bright blue eyes; and maybe if Deans eyes soften at the sight of him, well that's just because he's happy to see the guy. "Hello Dean, Sam." Cas greets. Sam nods in Cas' direction with a smile and a "Hey Cas." But Dean just can't manage to speak yet not when the memory of demons clawing at his flesh is still so raw inside his head. So instead he glances at the floor and the guilt that comes with it is like a smack in the face. He grimaces and doesn't meet Cas' eyes, only reaches for the doorbell and leaves Sam to whisper the basics of the case.

The door opens and a woman with blonde hair and a tired smile greets them. "Hello, can I help you?" Dean forces himself into his FBI act and smiles, adding a sympathetic tone to his voice when he speaks. "Yes, Mrs Stewart?" The woman nods, the smile gently falling from her face. Dean notices the way she inches the door closer to the frame as if she is going to shut it and Sam seems to notice it too. "Hi, I'm agent Moats and these are my colleagues Stark and Banner." Sam interrupts, placing his hand out for the woman to shake which she cautiously does. "We're here to talk about your son." The woman's face drops into a less than friendly scowl but slowly she moves back and opens the door, allowing the two hunters and angel into her home.

**...**

"You said that was the last time you saw your son?" Sam asks Mrs Stewart, eyeing Dean suspiciously who's been shifting in his seat for the past five minutes or so. The woman nods and dabs her eyes with a napkin to wipe away tears that seem to be non-existent. She sucks in a shaky breath and stands up. "Can I have a moment please." Mrs Stewart doesn't wait for an answer and hastily walks out of the cream coloured kitchen. 

Sam sends Dean a 'what the hell are you doing' look and checks to see if they're alone before speaking. "Dean what's going on? You've been fidgeting in that chair for the past five minutes non-stop!" He whispers. Castiel's attention drags across to Sam and Dean and he moves swiftly from where he was leaning against the counter to around the table, dragging a spare chair out from underneath it and sitting next to Dean. "Okay, dude. This is going to sound crazy." Dean begins, his hand grasping around the other atop of the table and making a whine-like noise in the back of his throat, covering it up with a cough. Sam nods for him to continue. "I really, _really_ want to take everything in this house." Sam's eyes widen, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "...What?"

"I said I have a huge urge to-"

"No Dean I heard what you said, but...why?"

Dean shrugs and looks down at the table, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them again. However the feeling remains, the urge to _take, take, take_ from this lady until whoever she really is, is left with nothing and it's a bitter-sweet feeling. The brothers stare at each other, waiting for the other to come up with a- well, an anything. "Cas, any idea's?" Sam asks, glancing at the angel. Usually, he would at least try to think of an explanation but after all the crazy crap that's gone on these past few days he decides to give the detective hat to someone with more experience. Castiel directs his attention to Dean and studies the other man silently while Dean examines a suddenly  _very interesting_  mark on the table.

Castiel finally answers with an ambiguous twist of lips. "I believe it's the curse." Sam lets out a quiet groan and pushes a hand through his hair. "So what, unless we get him out of here, he's going to rob this woman?" Sam asks almost curiously as if he's considering testing the theory. Castiel nods as if to say more or less and his eyes move to the table like he's trying to find what Dean's looking at. "Come on I'm not _completely_ out of control." Dean glares at nothing in particular and as if on cue the woman walks back into the room with a box of what looks like chocolates and after what seems like applying a very noticeable amount of lipstick and mascara. She flings her brown hair behind her shoulder and sniffles before placing the chocolates onto the table, leaving her arm to rest on the edge of it.

"I apologise that took so long." Mrs Stewart says, eyeing the three men sat in front of her. Sam wonders briefly whether this woman really is anything other than innocent, putting on mascara and lipstick to try and distract them, unfortunately, doesn't put her in a very trustworthy light. Sam forces a somewhat understanding expression onto his face and tries to watch her closely. 

However, Dean doesn't seem to notice or care abut the woman's face and almost automatically reaches for one of the chocolates with a predatory look glazing his eyes. Castiel glances at everyone in the room before hesitantly taking one himself. He stares blankly at it, curiously place it in his mouth with a confused tilt of his head and slowly begins to chew. The woman's look is expectant when she turns to Sam and he reaches for the box however the low growl that comes from his brother's throat makes him pull his hand away in fear of getting it bit off.

The woman frowns but Castiel is quick to break the awkward silence. "It's fine," His tone is everything except the understanding vibe Sam was going for but Sam's too busy trying to make sure Dean doesn't freak out to bother to correct the situation. "Can I ask, is there a Mr Stewart?" Both Sam and Dean's heads snap up. He could not, repeat _not_ , be flirting with this woman. Sam doesn't know whether to laugh or sink down in his seat, the guy is hardly the flirtatious type -Sam's heard the strip club story more times than he'd like to admit- Is Cas seriously flirting!

The woman answers Sams question.

Mrs Stewarts's mouth twitches into a coy smile and she lets out what could only be classed as a teary chuckle. Sam sinks down in his seat. "No- well yes, but he's in Minnesota." She gazes up through her eyelashes at Castiel and wipes away yet another non-existent tear, pushing a hand through her hair. Sam's eyebrows raise so high they almost connect with his hairline at that. 

_Not only is Castiel flirting, he's actually being flirted with?_

Sam watches out the corner of his eye as Dean slowly stops chewing, his brother's whole persona changes as if someone had just flipped a switch and Sam readies himself to have to hold his brother down. Dean scowls at the suspect with an expression so dark it can only be described as loathsome and the way Deans jaw is set is damn right predatorial, and Sam doesn't seem to be the only one who notices. The woman catches Deans eyes and instantly leans back, submissively turning her gaze to the floor like she was being forced to.

Then just like that, the switch is flipped again and normal Dean is back, chewing loudly on the chocolates in front of him as if he hadn't just looked like he was about to rip the woman's throat out. Castiel's head tilts to the side obviously sensing the awkwardness that has multiplied within the last few seconds and opens his mouth to speak but quickly gets cut off by Sam before he can make it ten times more awkward. Sam sits up straighter with an overly friendly smile plastered on his face complimented with an awkward chuckle and asks, "So Minnesota, huh?"

**...**

One thing is certain, Sam's pissed, and not the fun kind. Dean may or may not have freaked out at the suspect's house and _may or may not_ have threatened her which resulted in them being kicked out, but it's not like it's Dean's fault. As it turns out Dean is _sort of_ completely out of control when the curse kicks in, the lady just wouldn't stop doing that _eye thing_ to Cas and it... agitated him- well it agitated him, if being agitated meant that you felt like your skin is on fire and the only way to cool it is to rip someone's throat out- then yeah, it _agitated_ him. 

And it's not like he actually hurt the woman, it was only a threat and he doesn't even know why he did it. _Maybe because women, flirting, and Cas are three things that have never really fit into the same box?_ It's not like he's jealous -he isn't- women always look Cas' way, he's just never really noticed it until now, not that that makes a difference  _obviously_ , he's still not jealous, Cas is well Cas. The curse just made him feel like everything around him was his and it was... overwhelming. 

Dean huffs angrily as he pushes open the driver's door and steps out of the impala, Sam following suit and Cas using his mojo to get out. The sky is dismal, thunder rolling through the originally white clouds and blue sky, launching raindrops down to earth as the lightening claps electricity into the humid air. 

"Dean how could you do that! We needed her to trust us!" Sam slams the door of the impala and glares over the roof at his brother, who is already glaring back at him for slamming the door. Dean lets out an exasperated sigh and throws his hands into the air, unable to control himself as the anger radiating off of his brother reverberates onto him. "Sam, I can't control myself when the curse kicks in. You're lucky I didn't try and steal her freaking cutlery!" Being aware of the small audience of residents beginning to gather, Dean locks his baby and stomps inside, not bothering to see if either Cas or Sam are following him. 

Dean spins on his heels when he enters the motel room silently preparing himself for the two sets of disappointed eyes he's going to receive. Today has been long and embarrassing enough without him having to deal with this. But when he turns he is greeted with only one pair of eyes. 

"Where's Cas?" Dean questions almost automatically in a voice that has become much less angry in the last thirty seconds. Sam crosses his arms over his chest and rolls his eyes towards the motel door. "He's waiting outside."

Before Dean can voice his thoughts Sam answers. "He thought it would be best if we talk alone." He scowls lightly at how easily Sam can read him but brushes it off since Sam is no less pissy than he was a minute ago. "Dean-" Dean couldn't stop the eye-roll that his body performs even if he tried, this is Sam's 'I-know-things-are-difficult-so-lets-talk' voice, which of course means a chick flick moment is about to throw itself at Dean like it's metal and he's a magnet. 

"I know what you're doing, you're trying to act like this isn't a big deal." Sam sits down on the edge of his bed. "But it is." He sighs. "I think maybe we should stop hunting for a while." Dean's head snaps towards Sam with a, "What?" coming through gritted teeth. "Only until we find a cure," Sam assures as he stands back up, holding his hands in silent surrender. _No way, no freaking way, Dean is not going to be babied through this._ Dean raises himself to his full height, standing his ground. "No." He answers. "Dean-" Sam, starts but Dean cuts him off with a shake of his head as he saunters over to the mini fridge, opening it loudly and pulling out a beer. 

"No." 

Sam groans in frustration and scrubs a hand over his face. Dean knows what's coming next, of the 'I-know-things-are-difficult-so-lets-talk' voice, now it's part two: 'I-didn't-mean-to-say-that'. "Sam just stop. It's not happening. We're finishing this case and moving on." Dean scowls at his brother, taking a long swig of beer as he turns his glare to nothing in particular. 

For once, just once, he wishes that Sam would stop caring, just for tonight. But Sam doesn't listen to him. "Dean, Cas and I have been talking-" Dean glares at his brother. "You and Cas?" They've been talking about him behind his back? "You know what forget it. Go get Cas and we're finishing this case!" Sam glares at his brother and Dean braces himself for whatever Sam is about to throw at him. It's so unfair that Sam gets to have this quality about him, the one he gets from their Mother that tells him to never give up, Dean wishes he had it, envies the thought of standing up for what he believes in.

"You're not dad!" Sam shouts. "You can't tell me what to do!" Dean see's the twist of guilt in Sam's eyes as soon as the words leave his mouth but it doesn't stop the punch in the gut feeling that hits him. _"I know I'm not Dad because I actually give a shit about if we die or not."_ Dean wishes he could say that -Holy hell does he- just to be able to hurt Sam like Sam's hurt him, but it would just be a lie. 

John Winchester was a good dad, maybe not a perfect one but hell, he was there when he needed to be. But the continuous effects of the curse mixed with Sam's nagging sets him on edge _._ If Dean tells Sam he is freaking out and that he is one step away from turning into freaking Mad Max then that would mean he'd be letting down his duties as Sam's big brother, so he doesn't say anything. Instead, Dean gulps down the rest of his beer in one well-practised movement, chucks the bottle onto the floor and stomps out of the motel room into the rain. He ignores Sam calling for him and throws himself into the impala with a grunt before forcing his foot onto the gas pedal and driving until the motel disappears from his rear-view mirror.

**...**

Within a matter of minutes, Dean loses himself somewhere between St Louis and Indiana, Metallica blasting through the Impala's speakers and the occasional splatter of rain brushing his face from his partially opened window, washing away traces of sweat and dirt as small droplets cling to his lashes. The sky's now a dark grey as a large raincloud drifts in the air above him, the rumble of thunder rolling in the distance. Sam hasn't tried calling and he's not surprised. If Sam had left like Dean had, Dean probably would have drunk himself into a coma, but Sam most likely just caught an early night.

Dean doesn't hear the flutter of wings since his music is too loud but he knows Castiel is there. He doesn't have to look, he can feel the intense stare against his face and his eyes only resist for so long before they begin gliding in the direction of the angel. Dean blames their 'profound bond' for making him give up his stubbornness so easily, and curses internally as he fixates his eyes on Castiel's. Then, they simply look at each other because Dean already knows their going to end up talking. If Dean had just kept his head straight and ignored that somehow everlasting stare from beside him then the subject would have been dropped but somehow Dean's body doesn't feel like cooperating, so when AC/DC fades out and the impala becomes silent he doesn't question it. "Dean-"

"Yeah Cas I know, I know. I need to _control my emotions._ " Dean scowls at the air like it's somehow offended him. "But dammit I'm trying here, it's not like I asked for this." He growls quietly.

There's a brief moment of silence and Dean sighs, closing his eyes. _It's probably not the wisest move but hey, he's driving with an angel by his side, what could go wrong?_ "Dean, I was only going to say, you shouldn't have your music so loud. It could distract you." Dean's eyes open and he turns to Cas who's already staring back at him. 

He doesn't realise until he feels the laugh leave his lips that he's already smiling and shakes his head fondly before facing the road. "Well if I do get into an accident, you'll always be here to heal me right?" Dean grins, not expecting the questioning tone in his voice. _Really why should he care what Cas does? Maybe because the angel is his only actual friend? Maybe.. But Cas can do whatever and go wherever he likes, it's not like Dean could really stop him anyway but it doesn't stop him from wanting to know the answer to his question._

"Dean you know I will do anything to keep you safe." The heartbreaking honesty in that sentence makes Dean's heart clench in his chest and Dean has to squeeze the steering wheel to stop himself from flinching. The promising words float in the air for a few seconds, because what could Dean say to that? "Cas." It's meant to be a sigh, a tired beginning of an endless argument; but it sounds more like a plea, for what, he doesn't know, maybe for Castiel to shut up and let Dean be reckless and stupid for an hour to forget about his problems or maybe he just doesn't like how serious Castiel sounds.

Dean runs a hand over his mouth as if he's trying to coax out some sort of response. "Don't say that." He orders, refusing to let Cas promise something so serious. "I can't let you- I mean, I don't want you to-" Dean searches for the right words but apparently, they are non-existent and he sighs. "If _keeping me safe_ means getting yourself killed then I don't want you to do it, okay?" He watches the angel from the corner of his eye. He needs the angel to know that. "Just remember that." Dean finds his eyes yet again disobeying him and scanning the angels face hoping for at least a hint of understanding but only finding confusion. "I- I don't understand." Cas' head tilts to the side emphasising his confusion. "Of course, you don't," Dean mutters under his breath and focuses back on the road. 


	8. Kentucky, Missouri- "Hunting"

Dean ended up driving back to the motel a few minutes after Cas had left and the argument between him and Sam was more or less forgotten about by the morning. The next day they went to the suspects house to clear things up, or in Dean's case sit in the car while Sam went inside, but by the time they got there, there was already a ' **For Sale** ' sign outside and all the furniture had been removed from the house. Even when they broke in to look around there was no sign of anything, no omens, no demonic symbols, just the everyday house; and after searching the town for any sign of Mrs Stewart - _which would have gone a lot quicker if Cas had got his ass back down to earth_ \- and coming up with nothing, they decided to wait it out for a couple of hours, that is until they get a call from Bobby telling them to get back in the impala and help out a hunter in Missouri. So once again -after Dean finally convinces Sam that the case was a bust and just a sad mishaps with a weird family- they pack up their things and head to Missouri.

**...**

They reach Missouri in just over six hours and Dean is just about ready to collapse on the next warm surface he can find, so of course, that's when Bobby calls. "Yeah?" Dean murmurs his eyes already closing without his permission as he and Sam unlock their motel room and throw their stuff down. "You in Missouri, yet?" Bobby asks. Sam mouths _"Bobby?"_ from across the room and Dean nods tiredly in his direction. "Yeah, we're in Meta." Dean lies down on the bed closest to the door and rubs his eyes, a hunt isn't what he needs right now, he doesn't think he could even keep his eyes open long enough for it.

"Well, what the hell are you doing boy? I'm getting calls from all across Illinois about werewolf attacks." Bobby huffs and as if on cue the muffled sound of a phone rings in the background and Bobby mutters under his breath. "Isn't there any other hunters? Me and Sam just got off the road." Dean asks somewhat selfishly and watches out of the corner of his eye as Sam lazily puts his coat back on. They're going to have to go anyway. 

"Well, boohoo princess. I've been taking calls all night because you two decided to take your damn time. Now go get a beer or a coffee and wake the hell up, then get your asses down to Van Cleve." Bobby remarks sarcastically. Dean pushes himself off of the thin mattress, grabbing his coat and mumbling a verbal range of "Yeah." and "Fine, if I have to." to Bobby. It's most likely going to freezing outside so he puts on an extra flannel under his jacket and says a goodbye to Bobby before hanging up. Sam throws a gun filled duffel over his shoulder and Dean grabs his keys to the impala and within five minutes their back on the road and heading towards the werewolves hideout.

**...**

The other hunters are a no show, so once again the Winchesters are left to deal with everyone else's unfinished business - _not that Dean's being sour about it at all._ "Where the hell are they?" Dean hisses as they pull up outside the address Bobby messaged them. You wouldn't have to be told twice to know something unnatural is happening in this house, the houses shadows have shadows and it's basically uninhabitable, the kind of houses you read about in horror stories.

"I don't know, they should be here," Sam replies and gazes out of the window as if they were just going to suddenly appear. Dean rolls his eyes and scans the street. "Fine, well we're gonna go and get this over with then go back to the motel so I can collapse." He grumbles, getting out of the Impala and opening the trunk. They each grab guns loaded with silver bullets and then line their belts with knives and walk around the back of the house.

After picking the lock they easily find out that the house is worse on the inside than on the outside. The back door leads straight into the kitchen where dried blood is layering the room both floor and walls. All counters have been ripped from the walls and moved around, and most of the doors are blocked with what looks like the flesh of pre-victims. Within the first steps inside the house, Dean is covered in blood and Sam has a pretty serious concussion but they manage to kill each monster that comes their way until their left in the silence that's only disturbed by their harsh breathing.

The air is thick with the smell of death and both of the brothers can feel it trying to claw itself down their throats and choke them. It's disgusting, but hunts normally are, so they swallow down the natural urge to gag and keep moving. Sam nods to the right and walks off as Dean walks to the left and begins searching the house. 

The first room on the left is empty, sparse except for a few blocked windows and a lonesome chair. The next is cluttered with pieces of broken wood from what used to be a bed but just like every other room, it's mostly just empty. He turns to walk back down the corridor when a loud whine comes from the opposite end followed by rapid knocking. He raises his gun ready to shoot anything that comes towards him but only darkness stares back at him. Dean glances down the corridor before slowly stepping forwards. The door at the end has been dyed by blood and its covered in deep scratches as if someone has tried to throw a wild animal inside. Dean's just about to open the door when- 

"Who's there?" 

The voice is timid but Dean can tell it's a mans, he's just hoping it's human. Dean gently pushes the door open. The door reveals a room with no windows and unlike the rest of the house it's unnaturally clean; there's no clutter, no pulled off wallpaper and no blood, its just what you'd expect in a free house, well except for the chains that are hanging from the ceiling with a body is wrapped up within them. The man doesn't look as if he's breathing but Dean knows he heard something so he walks forwards and presses his fingers against the man's neck to find a pulse, it's there but faint.

When Dean taps the man's shoulder he flinches and recoils against the wall, the chains hitting harshly against the ceiling. Dean realises that that must have been the knocking he'd heard earlier. "Hey, hey," He hushes. "I'm not going to hurt you, I'm here to help you." The man studies the hunter suspiciously before answering in a hoarse voice. "Who are you?" His voice is deep and almost as gravelly as Cas', Dean thinks briefly that the guy could be an angel but he doubts it; how would werewolves even capture an angel let alone hurt one. The man has cuts and bruises along his cheeks and jaw like he's been punched repeatedly and his hands are still holding onto the chains like he's ready to pull himself up and attack. 

Dean decides the truth is the best way to get the guy to trust him so he tries to tell him in the most trustworthy voice he can muster, "I'm Dean Winchester." The man raises an eyebrow disbelievingly and lets out a weak chuckle. "You from a reality show or something?" Dean smiles at him and shrugs. "Heh, I wish buddy. Can you tell me your name?" His eyes follow the chains wrapped around the man and see's a large amount of dried blood around his wrists and down his arms probably from trying to escape. "..Jake." The guy says after a slight hesitation. Jake smiles innocently at him, but unwillingly he realises he's still going to need to make sure Jake is actually Jake and follows his gut instinct by presenting his silver knife. 

Jake flinches at the sight of it and he backs away again like he had when Dean first entered the room. "It's just a precaution," Dean insists. "It doesn't hurt that bad." He feels a bit stupid talking to a grown man like he's five but he knows from experience that telling someone who's panicking to man up doesn't end well. But apparently, neither does telling a man that cutting his skin with a sharp knife won't hurt because now the guy just looks terrified _and_ insulted. "Are you crazy!" Jake yells and uses his feet to kick at the hunter's hand. Dean huffs and steps back, pulling up his own sleeve he slices a small cut across his forearm to demonstrate to the guy, it stings of course but Dean's pretty sure after all the times he's had to cut open his arm his nerve endings have given up on trying to represent any real pain. Once again the guy kicks at Dean and hits the chains around his wrists against the wall to make as much noise as possible. 

For a moment Dean considers shouting for Sam and leaving him to sort this out but decides against it. If the guy isn't going to calm down then he's going to have to do it anyway. "Get away from me!" Dean moves forwards and raises his knife but it only makes Jakemore frantic, he's screaming and begging by the time Dean gets the knife up to his arm. When the sharp metal cuts his skin, Jake goes silent and his screaming is interrupted by a sharp intake of breath. 

Jake's head is hung low so at first Dean assumes the guys crying and he turns away guiltily, an apology on the tip of his tongue but when he looks back to the man, he's gazing up at Dean with a dark smirk. "Honestly out of all the hunters I was expecting, you were not one of them. I mean  _Dean Winchester._ " He says sarcastically. "Not very sympathetic are you?"

Dean sneers at the creature and steps back. _Always trust your gut,_ Dean hears the words in his head, he can't remember who the advice came from, maybe his dad? Most likely Bobby-  to say John Winchester was the gut-instinct kind of guy would be a lie, he was more of the run-in-with-whatever-weapon-is available-and-kill-everything-on-sight-kind-of-guy. 

_Somehow Dean managed to end up begin the trust-your-gut-and-regret-your-decisions-later kind of guy._

"Well, it must be your lucky day, getting yourself chained up and then meeting me." Dean winks at the lycanthrope and waves the silver knife confidently in its face. The thing tilts his head away from the pointed weapon and scowls at the hunter. "Yeah lucky me." He murmurs with an eye roll and gestures to the chains around his wrists. "What's your plan for me now?" He asks with a smirk playing on his lips as he stretches out his legs and pulls against the chains. 

"Well, that depends on if you tell me why you're chained up." Dean shrugs and sits down in front of the creature, twirling the knife in his hand. The werewolf may be an A star douche bag and a monster but if Dean killed the guy without so much as an explanation he knows it would just lead to another argument with Sam. The wolf shrugs and his hands go limp against the chains. "I was in a pack in Omaha around fifteen of us all together, but hunters ended that pretty quick, I managed to get away and somehow ended up with the piss poor excuse for werewolves that you just killed." 

The wolf snorts a bitter laugh. "So thanks for that. Bastards chained me up because they seemed to think we don't need to kill humans to survive, so I went out, killed a group of hikers, brought them back. The main guy didn't like that so he knocked me out and that was that. Found myself in chains by the time I came to." The creature says casually as if being chained up is just an everyday inconvenience.

"What? If they thought we shouldn't be killed then why the hell did they attack us as soon as we walked through the door?" Dean questions incredulously. "Well, I may have twisted a few things and told them you guys had killed one of their own." He smirks proudly at Dean. "Guess I'm just one sick puppy." 

So the werewolves were innocent? _Great._  

Dean considers his options. This guy/monster obviously isn't a fan of humans so if Dean was to let him go then he'd probably just go back to killing people, but if he kill's him then Sam would want to know why. Then again, if Sam doesn't find out about the other werewolves, then it's just a normal hunt, right? The wolf lays his legs out in front of him nudging the hunter's hand and gesturing to the chains once again. 

"You know.." He pauses, the dark smirk returning. "We could put these chains to good use. If you're into that sorta thing." Dean practically jumps back and scowls at the wolf. "Well, thanks for the offer but I don't swing that way." He remarks snarkily and slides his knife back into his belt before pulling his gun out from the back of his jeans, cocking the hammer and making sure it's loaded. He wouldn't want to seem unprofessional. "Only angels right? That's okay I don't judge. If anything I understand." A cocky chuckle comes from Dean. "Oh you do, do you?" He's got five bullets left, that's enough to kill the wolf and have a backup plan in case any others decide to show up. 

"Of course, I do. I'm not really the type to resist temptation." He smirks, playing with the chains. Dean sends him a curt nod, not paying much attention to the creature, his mind is too busy trying to come up with a convincing lie to tell his brother since all he's got so far is 'Oh yeah you know all those monsters we just killed turns out they were good, oops our bad right but hey the one I just killed wasn't good so don't feel guilty about it'. 

He knows if Sam found out that they were innocent he'd feel guilty and probably give Dean a long explanation about why hunting isn't good for them; so instead Dean's going to feel guilty for the both of them. Dean raises his gun at the man chained up before him. "Ah, so I tell you and get shot in the face anyway, classy." The werewolf sighs seemingly unimpressed with everything around him and crosses his legs. Dean shakes his head and tries to force himself back into his hunter façade. "Sorry." He murmurs and moves to check if Sam's in the hallway. When there's no sign of him Dean moves back and aims his gun at the werewolf. "Honestly, you're doing me a favour." Jake murmurs. "I'm dead anyways." 

Dean pulls the trigger.


	9. Mississippi, South Dakota- No sleep

Sam didn't question the gunshot he'd heard or Dean's weird mood when they got back to the motel, he also didn't question the guilty glances Dean keeps giving him or when Dean restarted his late night drinking because he knows that the nightmares get to his brother sometimes; so when Dean decides their going to make a sixteen-hour journey to Sioux Falls with no real explanation, Sam thinks he has the right to complain. 

"Dean what's going on?" Sam stands up from where he was sat on his bed as Dean walks through the motel door. His brother rolls his eyes, not bothering to slow his stride across the room. "Dude since when did you become my wife?" Dean reaches under the bed, grabbing at thin air until his hand connects with the handles of his duffel and he throws it on top of his bed. Sam crosses his arms over his chest frowning, as Dean smirks to himself at how Sam just proved his point of acting like a nagging wife. Sam must realise what Dean's thinking because he quickly unfolds his arms and throws Dean a very stern bitch face. "Samantha, I've told you," Dean sighs. "We're going to Bobby's."

Sam watches in silence as Dean moves around the room collecting his clothes and putting them into his duffel.  _That bitch face is just getting more intense, isn't it?_ It takes less than a minute for Dean to snap. "What?" He shouts, throwing his hands up in the air. "Why?" Sam asks in that way that only he can, the way that makes Dean feel bad for whatever he's done even if he hasn't done anything wrong. 

Dean pauses. "Because he's family." Sam rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean Dean."  _And there's that bitch face again._

Dean just about catches his eye roll and walks out of the motel door. Sam can say what the hell he likes but they both know Dean is his only real mode of transport, so unless Sam's going to catch a bus, or walk 15 miles to get into town, he's not going anywhere without the impala. "Look Sammy I just wanna see Bobby, okay? And anyway sixteen-hours isn't that long we've been on longer car trips remember." Dean persists once Sam has followed him outside. 

Sam shuts the motel door behind himself and walks towards the impala.  "I wanna see Bobby too," He says, fiddling with the room key. "But a straight trip to Sioux falls? We were kids the last time we did a trip that long, dad could have put us in the impala with a piece of lego for three days and we wouldn't have realised." Sam comments sarcastically. Dean frowns surprised at how reluctant Sam is to not make the trip to see Bobby. The man's basically their damn father, he should be more than happy to go. "Well Sam, if you're on your bestest behaviour I might just be kind enough to buy you your own piece of lego so we don't have to share." Dean grins at Sam as he rolls his eyes. Frankly, he's happy Bobby suggested not telling Sam until the last minute so his brother couldn't go all Samlock on him. Ever since his brother got a boner for Sherlock Holmes he thinks that he needs to examine everything within an inch of its life. _H_ _e kinda wishes he'd never let Sams obsession fester._ "I know you're up to something." _Oh, a_ _pparently Samlock Holmes was just late to the party._  

Dean brushes off his brother's stubbornness and throws his duffel into the impala's trunk. "I'm not hiding anything, Sam." At first, Dean thinks Sam is going to argue with him but Dean catches a glimpse of the duffel in Sam's hand and knows he's already won. With a sigh, Sam throws his own duffel into the trunk and throws Dean the room key. "Fine, don't tell me, but I'm picking the music," Sam smirks and climbs into the passenger seat. Dean rolls his eyes and shuts the impala's trunk. 

In all honesty, Dean hasn't thought this through. He and Sam didn't get a chance to sleep last night because their latest case dragged them to Mississippi where all the witnesses had their mouths shut tighter than a nun in church about everything and everyone. The whole town had an unspoken agreement of see no evil hear no evil, which turned out to be an agreement they invented after the fourth person in their town died from unknown causes but in reality had just been the work of a witch cult. Luckily they got there before the witches could make it a fifth death, but it still didn't make staying up all night disposing of the bodies any easier.

He prays to whoever or whatever is classed as God, that Bobby will be able to find a cure for the curse so that he didn't drag his ass down to Sioux Falls for nothing.

**...**

It's now been a full 24 hours since Dean last slept, and to say he's tired would be the biggest freaking understatement of his entire life. His whole body feels heavy like it's about to shut down on him and his eyes are constantly falling shut, but that still doesn't mean he's going to let Sam drive his baby. Sam's just as tired as he is so Dean's not going to take any chances. If Sam fell asleep at the wheel then he would never be able to forgive himself for the damage it would cause both to his baby.

So right now Dean's really envying Sam who's fast asleep across the back seat. 

He takes a hand of off the wheel to massage his neck and shifts in his seat, _oh yeah great plan Dean let's drive a car for sixteen freaking hours without a break._  Talking to himself was never a habit he picked up on but his currently overworked mind has no problem with telling himself what a dumb ass he is for even suggesting the whole thing, and he regretfully realises that Sam was right and that the trip is too far for one car ride. The sky is already turning auburn and they've only been on the road for four of the sixteen hours. He's too tired for this, but he will sell his left nut before he gives Sam any bragging rights. 

And then it hits him: if Sam wakes up Dean can guilt-trip him into driving, he's had a good three hours so he has less of a chance of crashing and that's a risk Dean willing to take. Quickly he skims the impala with his hands, searching for anything he can throw at his brother that wouldn't impale his face. _Aha, a plastic spoon._ Dean grins to himself and uses the wing mirror to line up his shot. _Just a gentle tap on the forehead and Sam will wake up._ He smirks mischievously and aims for Sam's face. 

But as always Castiel chooses the best moments to appear and Dean nearly swerves off the road from how hard he flinches, sending his plastic fork flying into the seat and completely missing Sam. "Dammit Cas." He scolds as he regains control of the impala, trying not to sound guilty for getting caught mid throw. "My apologies, I didn't mean to startle you." Castiel, the smug bastard, has the nerve to sounds vaguely sincere but Dean can hear the amusement in his tone.

He glances at the angel who's already looking back at him. Dean knows he should probably ask how Castiel is or ask anything except what he really wants to ask, but his curiosity gets the better of him. "So whatcha been up to Cas?" Dean tries to make it sound casual but fails miserably. For a moment Castiel actually looks like he might spill and tell Dean where the hell he's been and why he didn't answer any of Dean's prayers, but instead, he turns his gaze to the window and avoids the question. 

 _T_ _ypical, any other day Cas is all for Chinese whispers but ask him what he's been doing and apparently you've touched a nerve_.

"You shouldn't drive when you're tired, you need to rest," Castiel instructs as he watches the trees past. A "pah" kind of laugh passes through Dean's lips and he snorts at the angel. "You're telling me! I'm not going to get any sleep with sleeping beauty back there." 

Castiel turns to look at Sam and his head tilts as he frowns at Dean. "I do not see what Sams attractive appearance has to do with his sleep." _Sams attractive appearance?_   _What the hell's that meant to mean?_ Dean glances behind him at his brother then back at Cas. Sam's always looked like that, the same goofy little brother who won't cut his hair and is far too tall for his own good. 

Dean shakes his head dismissively. "I could drive." Castiel offers suddenly. "What?" _Cas knows how to drive?_ "No Cas it's erm..don't worry 'bout it." Cas frowns at Dean and _actually_ looks offended. "You don't want me to drive?" He looks even more offended when Dean hesitates. "It's not that Cas, I promise." Castiel sighs and shrugs, the movement looking awkward and unnatural as he dismisses the subject. "Please go to a motel if your eyes begin closing." Dean nods and after a stern look from Cas he makes a promise to get out of the Impala as soon as he can't keep awake anymore, and with that Castiel disappears into thin air.


	10. South Dakota, Sioux Falls - Bobby's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean doesn't keep his promise and Bobby finds out about the curse

Dean doesn't keep his promise and by the time Sam wakes up they're already in Sioux falls and driving through the gates of Singer's Salvage Yard. Sam yawns and pulls himself up to rest his head against the passenger seat. "Where are we?" He murmurs sleepily and rolls his shoulders. The extra rest may have been helpful but sleeping in the Impala isn't always ideal for someone of his build- in other words tall Sam plus small seats equals bad neck. "Bobby's." Dean chirps cheerfully from the front. Sam observes the mess that has consumed his brother; Dean's eyes are bloodshot with dark bags under them from where he's been rubbing them constantly to stay awake, his usual confident posture has been replaced with a drained, cramped figure that barely resembles Dean, and his mouth has been forced into a tight smile to hide how tired he is. "Dean, what the hell, why didn't you stop at a motel, or at least wake me up?" Sam asks.

His brother waves his hand nonchalantly in the air. "Psh, Sam I'm fine. I've told you, done longer car journeys than this before." Dean shifts in his seat and Sam knows that it's Dean's way of waking himself up so that he will be able to defend himself if Sam was to keep questioning him, so he changes the subject. "Did anything interesting happen while I was out?" Dean shakes his head and sighs. "Not a thing Sammy." 

**...**

_Sleep. Sleep _is definitely his friend_  right now _, because who cares if Sam will bitch at him? So what if it's only 2 pm, he's tired. Even the floor is beginning to look comfortable. Maybe moving a king size mattress into Bobby's guest room would be a good idea? Ah, memory foam that's what he needs.__

Dean yawns, his brain beginning to turn to mush, and wanders towards Bobby's house with his duffel thrown over his back and their weapons duffel dragging beside him. It brings back a lot of memories being back at Bobby's after so long. He smiles faintly at the memory of him, Sam and John showing up on Bobby's doorstep for a place to stay. He remembers that week and the smile slips off of his face, it's probably in the top ten of  _Dean Winchesters worst childhood memories_. Sam had been about seven at the time and Dean twelve, he remembers because that was the year his dad had given him his first gun. They had been driving around for days on end, moving from motel to motel, school to school chasing the yellow-eyed demon. Of course, back then Sam hadn't known about anything supernatural, so he was kept in the dark for that part but for Dean, it had been hell. He had, had to keep track of everything his father had said and done,  _"Silver bullets are for shifters and werewolves."_

_Carve pentagrams into the bullets. _"Silver knives work but they're useless on demons."_ _Clean the knives before using them._ _"Keep both eyes open when you shoot." Aim for their heads. "Don't be stupid Dean, just take Sam to school and get back here." You can sleep when the job is finished_ _.__

__He remembers the speech his father had given him on his first hunt along with an order of: _"Get the silver bullets from the Impala and don't make a sound."_ He remembers nodding curtly at his father,  _"Yes sir."_ before trekking back through the thorn bushes and mud to reach the Impala. But he also remembers the disappointment and anger that burnt in his father eyes when Dean had stepped on an especially loud twig and had got himself thrown against a tree by a shapeshifter. He had stitched himself up that night listening to his father curse as Sammy slept silently beside him._ _

So that's why they had ended up at Bobby's. John didn't trust Dean to go with him anymore if he was going to make mistakes. Dean also remembers how much it hurt to hear his dad say that. Bobby had taken them into his home without so much as an explanation from John. All John had said was,  _"Teach them how to shoot while I'm gone. I'll be back in a week."_ and Bobby had nodded and shuffled them into his home. That week had been somewhat peaceful: Sam went to school while Dean skipped classes, Sam did his homework while Dean shot at empty bottles on the fence, it was nice and kinda felt like they could be normal for once even if Dean didn't really want to be.

However, once the week was up, that was when things had taken a turn for the worst. John didn't come back, not when he was supposed to, not the week after he was supposed to and not the next couple of weeks after that. Bobby would make up lies like: "I've talked to him he said any day now." or "He's fine, a friend of mine is with him." Sam was as naive as a plank of wood and had believed every word, but Dean knew Bobby was lying. Dean was in that house every day for the three months that they were there how could Bobby have thought Dean wouldn't find out.

After the third month, Bobby had sat them down at the dinner table in the kitchen and said six simple words, "Boys, your dad's not coming back." Dean remembers feeling like he was drowning as he panicked for his and his brother future. Dean wasn't and still isn't proud of what he had done next. He had got up from his chair and shouted at Bobby. Jesus, he screamed at the man. He swore at him, beat against his chest, called him a liar, he hadn't even thought about how Sam had felt at the time, because while Dean was swearing at the man he now thinks of as a father, Sam had sat there in silence. He hadn't shouted or sworn or fought, just sat there. Dean had always wondered if it had been shock that had made Sam stay in his seat or if it was simply that he didn't care if John wasn't going to be in his life anymore. Until John's death, Dean had always thought the latter.

Dean had run into the forest behind Bobby's house after that, just to get away from everything. But soon enough his dad's way of thinking got into his head and he ended up on the side of the road trying to hitch a ride to Omaha to find his father. That's where John had found him. He remembers the ride back, remembers thinking that his father would shoot Bobby in the gut and leave, or worse because John hadn't taken it lightly to finding his son on the side of the road. But John didn't do any of those things.

John had stormed in picked Sam up who was sleeping on the couch and yelled, "We're leaving, going to stay with some real friends." That night had ended with John, Sam and Dean skidding out of Bobby's driveway as he blasted rock-salt into the back of the Impala. They didn't end up seeing Bobby until at least ten years later when John had gone missing (again). As he said it is probably in the top ten of  _Dean Winchesters worst childhood memories._

The eldest Winchester shakes his head and stumbles up to Bobby's front door. The outside of Bobby's house is just how he remembers it, old and unique, kinda like Bobby himself. Even the houses exterior has stayed the same dappled blue it's always been. Dean wonders ideally if the blue was ever bright and if at some point the house didn't have stacks of broken cars lying around like a metal plated wall. If he had to guess he'd say the cars have been around longer than Bobby has. Dean blanches at the mental image of Baby lying in one of these stacks, bashed, broken and abused and makes a mental note to polish her at some point. He doesn't bother knocking and opens the bleached door with an audible creak and a shout of, "It's us, don't shoot." Before he throws each duffel onto the floor and collapses onto the couch.

 

**...**

Dean wakes up but doesn't open his eyes, mostly because he doesn't even know why he's awake when he's tired as hell. "Cursed? Why in the hell didn't you tell me, boy?"  _Crap._ "I thought you knew?"  _Double crap._ Dean knew he forgot something, he just thought it would have been a pair of old socks or Sammy's make-up ( _heh)._ Dean sighs at the thought of having to deal with Bobby, he can just imagine Bobby doing the grumpy frown thing he always does to get Dean to talk and then he'd yell and call Dean an  _idjit,_ and Sam would join in with those big puppy dog eyes and- "Dean?" Dean curses, forcing himself to relax and pretend to be asleep but Sam doesn't buy it. "Don't pretend you're not awake Dean," He says and Dean knows Sam's bitch facing right now. He sighs and reluctantly opens one eye. Both Bobby and Sam are sat at the kitchen table watching him, Bobby with his grumpy frown and a bottle of whisky in his hand and Sam pulling bitch face 3.0 while leaning over some books. Dean allows himself a smug grin for knowing them both so well and lazily opens his eyes as he sits up with a long stretch.

"What, you having a slumber party and forgot to tell me?" Dean jokes and wiggles his legs to wake them up. "Stop being an idjit and get your ass over here." Bobby grumbles and Dean probably misjudged how awake he really is because as soon as he stands his legs give way underneath him and he barely manages to catch himself. "Perhaps he should rest." Castiel is leaning awkwardly against the door frame with his arms crossed neatly across his chest, wearing the same tanned trench coat and scanning Dean a bit wearily. Dean watches the angel briefly trying to figure out if he had been there the whole time or if he just appeared. He shrugs and grins at Sam and Bobby. "Well if the angel says I need rest, then I need rest, I mean who am I to go against the orders of an angel." He winks in Castiel's direction and begins lowering himself back onto the couch as if not to startle the other men in the room. However, before he can reach the scratchy goodness of Bobby's couch Castiel appears in front of him and touches his arm not even giving him time to registers his movements until he is stood in front of the kitchen table with a dumbfounded look on his face.

Dean stands silent, stunned by the sudden movements. "However, who am I to question Sam Winchester and Bobby Singer." Castiel's face is completely serious when he speaks but Dean sees the smug look in his eyes as he nods to Sam and Bobby before disappearing into thin air. "Traitor," Dean mutters scowling at the empty space where Castiel had been. Sam crosses his arms over his chest and Dean's not quite sure whether Sam's going to start yelling at him or walk away and not speak to Dean for a couple of weeks, Dean prefers the yelling. Trying to hunt without talking to each other is one of the hardest things in the world.

_Apparently, communication is the key to hunting_.

"Explain." Sam orders and drags a chair out from under the table. Dean sighs and sits on the chair, feeling like a kid getting scolded. He takes the bottle of whisky from Bobby's hand and starts drinking.

**...**

"So we found the hideout and I went in alone-"

"You went in alone?" Bobby interjects disbelievingly. "I went in alone," Dean repeats. "I thought the hunt would go quicker if we actually had an idea of what was going on." He adds when Bobby huffs at him like he's an idiot. Dean tries and fails not to scowl at his brother because Sam should be sticking up for him right now. "Anyway, Sam was back at the motel finding out about the warehouses' history while I was in the warehouse. There wasn't much in there just metal, glass the things you'd usually find in an abandoned warehouse." He pauses briefly to laugh at how weird that sentence would sound to normal people before continuing.

"So I kept going and then these green lights flash and out of nowhere this witch is in front of me armed to the freaking pulp with hex bags and then two more show up behind me and next thing I know I'm tied to a chair in the dark with candles surrounding me." Dean stops and grabs a beer out of the fridge hoping he doesn't have to continue, he really is too tired for this. But of course, when he turns back around Bobby and Sam are still looking at him expectantly. Dean sighs and pulls one of Bobby's draws open looking for the bottle opener. "So then one of them asked where Sam was-" He pops the lid from his beer in one smooth motion. "And after calling my bluff they begin chanting in Latin and before I know it Sam and Cas show-"

"Cas?" Sam interrupts and Dean rolls his eyes at being interrupted for the second time. "Yes, Cas. Then they kill-" Sam holds up a hand to stop his brother and shakes his head in that way that means, 'Nope-Sam-remembers-better' and glances at Dean suspiciously. "Dude, Cas wasn't there, it was just me." Dean replicates his brothers look and scrunches up his face in confusion. He may not remember a lot from that night but he sure as hell remembers seeing Castiel if anything that's the only thing he can remember. The witches were chanting around him then poured the blood onto him, just as Sam killed them, Castiel appeared in front of him. Right? Yeah, yeah it went chanting, blood, Sam, Cas. He shakes his head. "No, Sam I remember, right after you came in and shot..them..." Dean trails off as he thinks about what happened. He was so sure of the exact events, but now looking at Sam who's looking at him like he's a lost puppy, they've changed, he doesn't remember seeing Cas until back at the motel. Was Cas even in the warehouse? It would explain why he had asked Dean about what had happened. Dean digs his fingers into his temples and rubs them to try and think. His brain feels like someone's got a blender and drove it straight into the file that's marked 'the last couple of days'.

Dean curses and takes a few long gulps of his beer. "I'm gonna need a lot more beers for this." He mutters under his breath. Sam is still looking at him and Dean pulls a face at his brother, he knows Sam is worried but he needs to quit the starring he's almost as bad as Cas. "Do you remember what they were chanting?" Sam asks curiously and stands up to trace his fingertips along the spines of the books being held on Bobby's bookshelf. "Who am I, Sherlock Holmes? I can't remember what I ate the s'morning let alone what some witches chanted a week ago." Sam doesn't turn around but Dean knows he's rolling his eyes. "Well has it done anything?" Bobby questions and snatches back his bottle of whisky that Dean has drained. "You been acting weird because of it?" Both brothers exchange looks. Dean would defend himself with a firm no but he knows he has no chance of winning that argument, so he just shrugs and passes the metaphorical pen to Sam so that he can begin listing Deans weird behaviour over the past days.

Sam happily takes the pen and begins listing off things that have happened on his fingers. "Well, I guess the first time something weird happened was the night he got cursed, at first I just thought he was wasted but he was being really strange. And then the next day Dean wouldn't wake up, I mean I tried everything from putting him in a bath of cold water to screaming at him." Dean gives Sam a weird look and his brother rolls his eyes. "No, you weren't naked." He sighs. "So Cas had ended up using his powers to wake Dean up. And the most recent thing was a couple of days ago when we were checking out a potential case and Dean went crazy at the suspect."

Both Bobby and Sam look at Dean and he can't help but feel like he's standing in front of a judge and jury. Dean stands up and shrugs defensively. "Hey, how about you two get cursed by some witch and try to keep control of yourself?" Sam snorts sarcastically. "Dude, you were pouting at the TV and shouted at a random woman just for talking to Cas." The look of pure embarrassment on Dean's face is no less than priceless and he stands there speechless for a few seconds before murmuring, "Shut up Sam." as Sam smirks at him.

Bobby huffs and crosses his arms across his chest. "So when in the hell were you planning on telling me this?" He asks and Sam looks to Dean who shrugs guiltily and avoids the two pair of eyes on him. Bobby sits in silence for a moment looking between the two brothers with an unreadable look on his face, before he stands, pours himself a glass of whisky and takes a large swig. "Idjits."

**...**


	11. South Dakota, Sioux Falls - The "cure"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> !Contains adult content!
> 
> The curse gives Dean more than he bargained for

"You found anything Sam?" Dean watches as his brother's head pops up from behind the stack of books he's built up over the past hour.

According to Sam, he works better when he can't see Dean's face  _-hilarious-_  so he's sat on the floor behind Bobby's desk with his laptop in front of him and a seemingly endless supply of books surrounding him. It's dark outside and Dean would be lying if he said it didn't make him anxious. Yeah, he feels safe at Bobby's; the man's house is warded against every monster and demon alive, but when you're in the middle of nowhere and all around you is engulfed in darkness, then you can't help but feel like your trying to hide from the cops in a freaking lighthouse. Sam blinks slowly at his brother trying to get his eyes to adjust to something other than a computer screen and words on a page. "Um, yeah actually."

Sam stands up holding a thick, dust grey book open between his hands. "So back in 1231, there was this group of witches in Paris. They were pretty much the real deal you know voodoo, sacrifices, devil worshipping. The group called themselves  _tribus_ which is translated to 'the three' in-"

"Latin, yeah when isn't it Latin. What does this have to do with the curse?" Dean asks and stands up from the couch to replace his beer with a new one. His brother sighs and examines the pages of the books in front of him. "Well, basically they decided to kill one person every day unless they were treated like Gods- given gold and a sacrifice monthly. Eventually, after the fifth or sixth death, the townspeople went on a witch hunt and caught all three of the women and then put them on trial for witchcraft. Obviously, they were found guilty and were meant to be hung the next day." Sam flicks through the pages of the book he's holding before placing it back on the table and running a hand through his hair.

Dean shrugs and slumps down onto his seat. "Still not seeing why I should care Sam." Sam rolls his eyes and leans against the wall. "The only problem is that only two of the witches were hung. The other escaped that day and was never seen again." Dean stops with his beer halfway to his lips and looks at his brother.  _No way._ "No freaking way."

The flapping of wings fills the silence in the room as Castiel appears beside Dean. "Hello-" He cuts himself off at the stunned look on Dean's face and glances at Sam. "I assumed you have told him about the witches." He deduces as Dean tries to process what Sam has said. A witch over one hundred years old has cursed him for doing, well for doing fuck all actually. He only tried to kill the bitch because her and her best friends started a killing spree. His brother nods at the angel and sits down at Bobby's desk.

"Wait so you're saying some witch-"

"Catherine Monvoisin." Sam supplies automatically not bothering to stop scanning through the pages in front of him. "Yeah, Catherine...whatever- decided to camp out in the bad parts of Ohio for one hundred years?" Dean asks incredulously, partially aware that he's shouting and Bobby's asleep upstairs but not caring enough because  _seriously_ a one-hundred-year-old witch?

He watches Sam blink slowly at the book in front of him and sighs. Obviously, Sam didn't get as much sleep as Dean thought he had. Castiel shrugs. "Not necessarily Dean, during one hundred years she could have travelled across the world unnoticed especially in the time period that she was in." 

"Yeah, Cas I know I was just- never mind." Dean strolls over to Sam and pushes on the arm he's leaning against. Sam looks up at him with an annoyed frown and rolls his shoulders as if to say 'I'm awake' but Dean knows Sam is going to fall asleep sooner or later. "Come on Sammy," He says and pulls Sam up from the desk chair, he's easier to lift as he's not resisting but it's still difficult as he's mostly just dead weight. Sam makes a whining noise in the back of his throat as some sort of protest but Dean ignores it and throws his brother's arm around his neck. "You'll just fall asleep at the desk anyway and I don't want you bitching at me tomorrow when you have a sore neck." Sam murmurs something unintelligible and face-plants the couch when Dean releases his arm. 

"Out like a light, huh Cas?" Dean mumbles and rubs at his eyes.  _How the hell is he still awake?_  He turns around to see Cas watching him and sighs, he can never figure out that look and that bothers him more than it should. He'll never admit it but he's spent hours staring at the ceiling, on those nights when nightmares have kept him awake, just thinking about the little details of emotion Cas shows when his mood changes, like how his mouth lifts when he says the letter 'H' or the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, even if it's just a small upturn of lips. Dean thinks that's why he and Cas are the way they are, why Dean will know how Cas is feeling just by looking at him. Studying Cas is somehow calming to him. Why? Well, who the hell knows, maybe it's because he likes having someone close to home, who's not Sam, to think about. Most likely just because over the years Dean's found that reading Cas' expressions comes so easily to him.

"Dean?"

Dean glances up.  _Shit had he been staring?_ "I-um.." He stutters and chuckles awkwardly. "Should I repeat myself, or should I tell you maybe once you've slept?" Castiel raises his eyebrow with a sarcastic glint in his eye and Dean nods sheepishly then gestures for Cas to repeat himself. 

"Sam has spoken to me about his research and along with Bobby's collection of books he has found a lot of information which includes many unheard stories about witches such as Catherine Monvoisin and her speciality in curses. We believe it was Catherine who cursed you as she is one of the ten most powerful witches in the whole of creation and is purposely famous for her most famous curse, Septem peccatis mortalibus which is the only one we've found that matches your symptoms the most accurately." Castiel sits down in the chair across from Dean and brushed absently at stray crumbs on the table. 

"The name Septem peccatis mortalibus is translated into the seven deadly sins and, as its name implies, is built around the seven sins - Envy, Sloth, Greed, Pride, Lust, Gluttony and Wrath." 

Dean nods along and sips casually from his beer, smiling to himself at Cas' annoyance when the table dips slightly in its one crooked leg. "Okay.. so you're saying she cursed me with the seven deadly sins? That doesn't seem that bad, I mean I've obviously sinned before." Dean says with a grin. The angel rubs at his neck in a very human gesture and shakes his head. "Dean, you're lucky to have survived the enchantment, most people die during it as their bodies become over stimulated." Dean shifts nervously. Well, surviving something that most people die from might be a good sign? "Yeah well, I wouldn't have survived it without you fixing me up so.." Or maybe the witch-bitch changed the spell so that he will be forced to experience a year's worth of pain, make a fool of himself and then die. Either way, it sends a weird chill up his spine. "Anyway, basically, what you're saying is the curse is just a hellfire way of putting someone's ass into the pit?" 

Castiel looks uncomfortable at the mention of hell but Dean pretends not to notice. "Yes, most of the time there is someone or something that triggers the sins, for example, a person or an object that means a lot to you. Unfortunately, no one knows why as everyone who's been cursed has not completed the sins and died." Dean just manages to catch his beer before it drops from out of his hand. "What! So you're telling me if I don't do each sin I'll die?" Castiel shakes his head. "Of course not, me and Sam would not let you die."

"But the spell does specify that it can only be broken by the death of the witch who set the curse or by the completion of said curse." 

Dean sighs and runs a hand down his face because that's just typical, isn't it? Not only is he cursed, if he doesn't do what this curse tells him to then he'll die. Fan-freaking-tastic. Shoulda killed the bitch when he had the chance, would have made his life a helluva lot- Wait... "But Sam killed her? The curse should be broken?" Dean frowns at Castiel. 

"Sam didn't kill her."

What...   
No seriously, what?

"What? When the hell were you going to tell me!" Dean yells a little too loudly and Sam begins to stir on the sofa. Cas glares lightly at him and turns to watch Sam with squinted eyes until he stills again. 

"I thought it would be for the best. He had killed the other witches but she got away..." Castiel answers. "Again."  _In other words, Sam had convinced Cas that they should keep it to themselves and not tell him_ , Dean thinks bitterly. "Fine, whatever. Do you even have any leads on where she could be if things get bad?" He asks. The angel shakes his head guiltily to confirm what Dean already knew. "Okay well, I guess we'll start there then." Dean stands to go and get some more books and maybe a few more beers but Castiel's hand on his forearm stops him. 

"I..um.." Cas pauses and glances behind Dean at Sam before continuing. "I wanted to apologise for not being there to help you when you were being cursed, I regret not watching over you." Castiel's head lowers as he speaks and he purposely avoids eye contact. Dean sighs, he knew Cas would blame himself. Even though it's been ages since Cas was actually  _Castiel,_ Cas still seems to think of the Winchesters as his responsibility; no matter how many times Dean's told him that they can look after themselves the angel just can't let go of the responsibility yet and Dean doesn't blame him. He knows how hard it is to really think for yourself when you've been given orders your whole life.

Dean glances down to Cas' hand which is still resting lightly on his forearm. Normally Dean would just pull away from any sort of contact like this with Cas, just so it doesn't get to an uncomfortable intimacy that the angel doesn't understand but he knows he won't be able to pull away without feeling like a complete ass especially with how unhappy Castiel looks; so Dean dips his head and tries to catch the angels eyes. Cas looks up almost immediately as Dean gently pulls his arm from Cas' grip before placing his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Look Cas, buddy..you don't need to feel bad. What's happened has happened, yeah? It's okay. I know you would have helped if you'd known." Dean squeezes Castiel's shoulder and gives him a reassuring smile. The angel smiles back and nods. "Thank you." Dean's not quite sure what he's being thanked for but he nods anyway and drops his hand back to his side before walking over to the set of books Sam left on Bobby's desk.

**...**

_"Dean." Castiel's voice echoes like a broken record in the back of his head thrumming through his rib cage and making the floor beneath him vibrate. "Cas? Cas, where are you?"  Everywhere around him is caged in darkness and he holds his hands out to guide himself through it. "Dean." Cas' voice sounds disorientated and breathy like someone's pressing down on his throat and the thought makes Dean walk faster. He marches forward and his hands make contact with something cold and metal, then suddenly the room is lit up with a low glow and the cold metal is now the curves of the footboard connected to a king-sized bed. He's in a bedroom. Dean looks around himself trying to remember if he's ever been here before and traces his hands along the gold and red wallpaper looking for any sign of a potential door._

_There's a large oak wood wardrobe where the door would normally be but when Dean tries to push it out of the way it won't budge. He crouches down until he's laying flat on his stomach and peers under the wardrobe. He jumps when a small ball of light shines from under the wardrobe and grows bigger the more he looks at it until he's forced to stand up and wait for his eyes to readjust. There's obviously something behind the wardrobe but the damn thing won't move._

_"Dean."_

_Dean freezes on the spot._

_Cas?_

_He turns around and stumbles back at the sight before him. Cas -may he add that this is the same virgin Cas that almost had a panic attack when Dean had taken him to a strip club- is lying naked on the bed, his hands and feet tied to each corner with his eyes closed and he's practically trembling. His chest and neck are covered in love bites and he looks almost painfully hard. "W-what the hell Cas?" Dean whispers, he wants to turn away but his eyes are glued to the slow grinding of Cas' ass into the bed as he searches for friction. "Fuck Dean, touch me." He breathes and his eyes open with lazy blinks like someone's already fucked him to hell and back, and he's struggling to stay conscious. The sound of Cas swearing pulls a low whine from Dean's throat and he's so turned on that he can't even focus enough to feel embarrassed about it. "Dude..what.."_

_Dean tries to speak, he really does, but he's shocked into silence at the sight of a naked figure who looks very much like him-fucking-self, sneaking out from the shadows with a predatory grin on his face. "Ssh shh Castiel." That gets a full body shiver out of the angel and Dean can't stop the stir of his libido as he watches his clone-self drag his hand loosely up and down Cas' flushed cock, his own cock growing harder by the second as he watches the scene in front of him. Cas gasp out a moan and tries to get himself off using fake-Dean's hand, straining against the restraints around his wrists and feet. "Dean." Cas whines as fake-Dean's hand slips from off of_ _his cock and down in between his legs, circling the rim of his hole enticing a low guttural moan. Fake-Deans grin widens as he straddles Cas' writhing body leaning down to bite and suck at the angel's lips. "Fuck." Dean keeps his back to the wall as he moves around to get a better view of himself and Castiel grinding against each other. He shouldn't enjoy it because this is wrong,_ _**that** _ _is his best friend, his oldest friend, it's Cas, but that just makes it even hotter. He_ _groans at the sight and cups his hardening cock._

_Dean pulls his jeans zipper down and doesn't notice when his clothes disappear from his body._ _His cock springs up against his stomach and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from coming right there and then from just how good being out of the tight confinement of his jeans feel. "Dean come here," Castiel begs. Fake-Dean has now moved down Cas' body and is watching intently as he fucks three fingers into Cas' hole, however, Cas is watching the real Dean as if it's not even happening as he stands completely vulnerable against the wall with his cock bouncing against his stomach. Dean feels the full body flush as Castiel watches him, it's so unbelievably unreal for Cas to look so innocent, especially as he's laying on a bed with each limb tied up while someone finger fucks him. "Dean, please, pleas-" Cas cuts himself off with a deep moan and fake-Dean grins to himself and tuts. "Now, Cas you know the rules. You have to wait until he's ready."_

_Castiel scowls and drops his head against the pillows, only for his scowl to replaced with a look of pure bliss when fake-Dean makes the drag of his fingers harder and faster. Dean stands there for a moment caught between touching himself or covering himself up and turning away. "_ _Dean touch me."_ _Castiel decides for him. Dean practically runs to Cas and forces his tongue into the angel mouth inhaling the sweet earthy smell that Castiel generates. He straddles Cas' stomach grinding down on Cas' cock and moaning at the wet slip of Cas' precum against his own as fake-Dean relentlessly moves his fingers faster and faster. "Dean, Dean, Dean.." Cas chants over and over, biting and licking at Dean's lips as Fake-Dean licks his way across Dean's back_ _creating purple and red bruise-like marks._

_"Fuck Cas." Dean gasps out between kisses. Castiel gasps i_ _n a silent scream_ _and bites Deans neck as one perfectly timed thrust pushes him over the edge and he sprays warm come over both of their stomachs. Dean gasps and grinds down harder trying to push himself over the edge. "Cas..." He bites down on the angel's throat and moans at the full body jolt it causes._ _"Non est hic versipellem esse, lamia daemon seu angelus.." Cas whispers into Dean's ear, licking his way across his jaw. "Sed ille occidendo peccaverunt cupiditate et ultrices. Et pro hoc." Dean growls and gasps,_ _he doesn't have the willpower to stop and understand what Cas is saying so he just listens, every word sending a new jolt of pleasure down his spine. "Si superstes fuerit incarnationis hoc sentiamus omnis peccati, superbia, invidia, ira, gula et luxuria, ignavia et avaritia," Dean growls under his breath because no matter how hard he tries he can't find the right friction he needs. Until finally, "Dean."_

Dean shoots up in his chair with a gasp and sits there shell-shocked as he feels warm liquid soil his underwear.  _No. No freaking way_. He did  _not_  just come in his pants like a teenager over a dream...a dream about his friend in his basically-dads house... a dream about his best friend in his basically dad's house with Sam and Bobby sat across the room from him. Dean sits there for a minute unsure whether to freak out or just stare at his crotch but being too sated to do anything but breathe. "Dude, are you okay?" Sam and Bobby are staring at him with looks torn between curious and amused. Dean opens and closes his mouth repeatedly before shaking his head and standing up, cringing at the feel of wet cloth against his softening dick. "I'm fine, just a dream." Dean murmurs, trying his best to walk towards the stairs without his tail beneath his legs but ends up trudging up the stairs like a cowboy with broken legs.

Sam sniggers and Bobby shakes his head, murmuring something about Dean being an "Idjit." before walking off towards the kitchen in search of whisky. But Sam follows his brother upstairs. "Sounds like a pretty interesting dream." Dean flips off Sam and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, making sure to lock it since Sam is practically the master of walking in on Dean at the wrong times, before stripping out of his jeans and boxers. "Um, Dean?" Dean jumps at the sound of Sam from the other side of the door and cringes as his hand touches his drying come,  _Jesus Christ, his brother needs a freaking cat bell_. Dean sighs and silently thanks himself for leaving his duffel in the bathroom as he pulls on his new pair of boxers and jeans with his clean hand. "What?" Sam shuffles for a moment on the other side of the door and Dean begins to think he has left until he murmurs again. "Do you...do you wanna talk about it?" Dean opens the door to Sam holding a notepad and pen between his hands with an embarrassed look on his face.

"I-You-What- Why?" Dean feels his face heat up and shakes his head sharply at this brother. "Well, Bobby said your dreams could tell us what sin is going to happen next, so..." Sam replies awkwardly and gestures deliberately to the notepad in his hand. Dean shakes his head even harder. "No way, that is not happening." He holds his hands up to stop his brother and walks around him, heading for downstairs so this whole conversation can disappear but Sam doesn't take no for an answer. "Okay, fine," He crosses his arms over his chest. "Either you tell me now and save yourself at least some embarrassment or you run away and I can get Cas to read your mind and he'll tell me."

Dean stops in his tracks and scowls down the hallway at his brother. "You wouldn't dare," Sam smirks at him and holds a hand up to his ear. "What's that? Is that the sound of angel wings?"  _Crap._ Dean glares even harder before throwing his hands up in the air and marching towards his brother. "Fine," He points a finger at Sam. "But don't blame me if you don't like what you hear."

**...**


	12. South Dakota, Sioux Falls - The next sin?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being embarrassed by Sam, Dean wants to get out of the house and so they pick a case

By the time Dean had explained his dream to Sam, Sam had gone from being embarrassed to disgusted to bursting into laughter. "Dude, what are you twelve?" He gasps between each hysteric laugh. Dean glares at him and stands up feeling his cheeks flush. "Shut up." He snaps. Sam wipes his eyes and coughs to rid any excess laughter. "Okay, okay I'm sorry, is that all that happened before you woke up?" Sam scribbles down the basics of the dream, purposely leaving out any vivid details about the whole jerking off Cas  _thing -_ because neither brother wants to remember that talk again. "Well... yes, and no. When I was.. you know," Dean waves his hand around in the air to gesture to Sam what he means. Sam stares at him for a few seconds before realising what Deans talking about and awkwardly averting his eyes. "Yeah, that." Dean scoffs a laugh. "He was saying stuff, like chanting it-"  

"Ew, dude I don't want to hear about your kinks!" Sam yells, putting both his hands over his ears and scrunching up his face in disgust. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees Bobby make a U-turn and walk back upstairs -which at this point is probably for the best. Later Dean will most likely end up chasing around after Bobby anyway trying to explain why Sam had yelled that when they were sat alone in broad daylight. So he decides to deal with that  _later._  Dean rolls his eyes and pulls Sams hands away from his ears, sitting back down in front of him. "Not moaning, like latin you know... chanting." Sam still looks weary but writes it down anyway. He studies the words that he's written occasionally glancing up at Dean before sighing. "Okay, so I guess Cas told you about what we're up against?" 

Dean nods and gets up for his fourth beer.  _Screw it, he might be dying anyway_. "Well there's only seven sins, right? So we just have to narrow it down to what ones you've been through and what ones you haven't." Dean nods again and sips his beer as he skims over Sams notes. "Okay, so how are we gonna do that?" Sam smiles and walks across the room to flick through a huge stack of paper cluttered on Bobby's desk. Dean briefly wonders how the hell Bobby can find anything in his house apart from crumpled old paper and devil traps with how unorganised it is. But then again Bobby's one of the smartest people Dean's ever met, and that's including a certain brother named Sam and an angel named Cas. For all Dean knows, Bobby could have everything colour coded and filed by order of size.

Dean shifts uncomfortably as the thought of Cas brings back some very unwanted mental images of him stretched out on a king-sized bed. He curses as his libido stirs to life and immediately tries to replace the thought.  _Bobby in a bikini, the Queen covered in butter,_ somehow he ends up with the memory of Sam dressed in a way too big sweater from when they were kids. He laughs unexpectedly and Sam glances at him out of the corner of his eye. "Okay...well, when I found out about the curse I did some research and I've kinda figured it out for myself." Dean takes the frayed piece of paper from Sam's hand and reads. The writing is a list that consists of the seven sins: three of them have been crossed off while the others have been underlined and highlighted; denting the paper are several accidental holes from where Sam has written things down in a rush, and circled at the top is a sloppily written 'Lust'. 

Dean smiles at Sam's nerdiness. Of course, his brother has already figured everything out. "That's great, so I just have to get some pretty redhead with blue eyes a little hammered and bump uglies with her, that's just another Thursday night. I could even get you laid for once." Dean grins shoving the paper back into Sam's hand. He hardly sees how lust is a bad thing if anything it's only going to make him more charming; like being drunk just with more of a chance of him dying from overstimulation.

But as always, Sam disagrees. "Well, not exactly Dean, the curse isn't very specific about  _who_  you get to lust over. It could be anyone, either a certain person or someone you choose for yourself. It's kind of a fifty, fifty chance." Dean shrugs only half listening and taking note of how Sam had said 'person' and not 'woman'. "Yeah, we'll see about that." He murmurs. Sam shrugs and stands stretching lazily like some giant long-haired cat before stepping into the hallway. 

"Oh and Dean," Sam stops in his tracks and turns to face his brother. "Yeah?" Dean stands, taking a gulp from his beer and watches Sam shift awkwardly on the spot. "Just- just try not to do anything stupid. Maybe something good will come from this, you know?" He smiles and saunters off down the hallway. Dean rolls his eyes with a smile and walks over to the fridge looking for any sign of food. "Hey, and you never know," Sam shouts suddenly from somewhere down the hallway. "If this lust thing gets out of hand, maybe Cas could be your new gay thing?" Dean flushes and covers his face with the fridge door trying to disappear from his embarrassing existence. He flips off Sam and leans against the fridge empty-handed once his brother has left.  _Great so that's two things he has to explain to Bobby._

**...**

"Okay dude, pick a case." Dean shuts the screen of Sam's laptop and throws down today's newspaper. He's going to freak out if he doesn't leave Bobby's house, he'll take anything, vampires, werewolves, freaking leprechaun's if they're feeling up to it; anything just to get out of Bobby's house for a couple of hours.

Sam frowns at his closed laptop and takes a sip out of his frapo-cafi- basically from his cup of ice and tasteless coffee. "If that breaks your paying for a new one." Dean slumps down across from Sam and drops his head against the table, shaking the newspaper in front of his brother's face. "Pick a case or kill me." He orders. Sam laughs around his cup and moves his drink to the shelf beside him, and throws the day old newspaper onto the floor and chucks an even older one at Dean. "Actually, I've already found one." He says matter-of-factly and sits back down in his seat, leaning across the table to point at an article. "Dude this newspaper is at least four days old, how do you know this hasn't been dealt with already?" Sam shakes his head dismissively at Dean and pulls a face as if to say 'really, Dean?', and then places two newer papers onto the table from somewhere off of the floor. 

"Because," He says. "I've been following the case since we arrived. It hasn't been solved yet because no one knows what they're up against." Dean tries to listen but all he can do is frown at the soft-purple bags under Sam's eyes and makes a mental note to make sure Sam sleeps more often. Dean shrugs when he sees that Sams stopped talking. "Okay, so where is it?"

Sam points to an orange post-it note stuck to the edge of the newspaper. "It's in Rauville, about ten miles down route 29." Dean grins. "Awesome." The case is only a few miles away so if they're really quick then they could finish it by nightfall. He practically runs up the stairs to pack his duffel, returning a few minutes later with one duffel full of clothes and the other full of their hunting equipment. But Sam hasn't moved. "Dude, come on!" He gestures to the door using his duffel and is already stood in front of the door and turning the handle by the time Sam has even looked up. "What? I didn't mean now...we still have this whole curse thing to get through." Dean waves his hand in the air and lifts his duffel into Sams view. "Well, I've packed a bag so now we have to go. Anyway, it's like you said something triggers the curse and that something is obviously not here." Sam raises an eyebrow with natural Winchester sarcasm and watches Dean squirm impatiently by the door. "Are you sure your-" 

"Sam, I'm fine, let's just go!" Dean opens the door and walks out to throw the duffels into the Impala. Sam sighs and stands up from his seat, walking over to the bookcase near Bobby's desk and picking up the keys to the Impala just as Dean walks back through the door. "Keys." Dean holds out his hand and Sam shakes his head. "No way, if you want this case then I'm driving." He dangles the keys on his index finger and they rattle together harshly, forcing Dean to swallow down his argument and instead scowl and stomp back outside with a murmur of, "Hurry up." to his younger brother.

**...**

"So what, this woman just happens to get locked inside of her house while her neighbour is being attacked and killed right in front of her?" Both Sam and Dean step out of the Impala, wearing their black-tie suits and walk up to the victim's house. The place is mostly abandoned apart from the stray cop here and there, so they decide to walk through and wing it if anyone asks what they're doing. "Yeah, apparently. According to her report, she claimed that she had been cleaning when the guy was dragged and killed by something invisible." Sam explains quietly as they each hold their fake-badge up to a passing officer and walk inside the house, stepping over a puddle of dried blood in the doorway. 

"Okay, so where is she? Maybe we can get some other information out of her?" Dean questions as they step into the hallway, past the cream kitchen and through into the spacious living room. "Yeah, I doubt it," Sam replies. "The blood by the door is kinda all that's left of her." He frowns and nods in the direction of the door as he slowly traces his hands underneath the fireplaces mantlepiece, hoping to find anything other than dust and crumbs. "Woah, how'd she die?" Dean asks as he crouches down and searches behind the bookcase resting against the wall.

Sam turns to Dean with a weary frown and glances towards the hallway to check for any prying cops. "Well, whatever it was that killed her neighbour obviously wasn't finished and somehow she ended up with her head crushed between the door frame." Dean's eyes widen disbelievingly and he and Sam unconsciously search the air above them. Whatever they're dealing with must be one powerful sonovabitch to do something like that, and that's saying something considering they've seen a teenager be descalped by a ghost before. 

Dean fishes into his jacket's inner pocket and pulls out his makeshift EMF reader. "Well, we better get to work then." He grins shaking the reader in the air and walking towards the wooden stairs. "Here ghosty, ghosty!"

**...**

Deans search upstairs consists of small claw marks on the wallpaper in the bedroom, something that looks vaguely like rock dust coating the window sills and a very extensive collection of whips in the attic that he hopes to God haven't been used on people; but there's nothing that can be considered unnatural-  _well, maybe_   _except for the whips_. So far the EMF signals have been practically non-existent and he's starting to think that the curse has just gotten rid of everything remotely supernatural in his life so that he will eventually be killed off by boredom. After one more quick scan of the bedroom and study, he trudges back down the stairs, gracelessly slipping on the pink carpet that covers them before stumbling into the hallway.

The house has filled more since him and Sam arrived, most likely because someone told the other cops that FBI are sniffing about, so he is repeatedly interrupted by cop after cop while trying to find Sam. After searching the whole freaking house, he eventually finds his jackass little brother lingering in the hallway  _because apparently, Sam can't stay in one place for more than five seconds_. His brother stops in the small gap between the kitchen and living room staring at the green wall with a notepad and pen in his hand. Dean walks up to him, nudging his shoulder. "You find anything?" He asks. Sam points with his pen to a carved wooden box hanging crookedly on the wall. It's out of place in the modern house with its old design and wavering white paint, and the screws are half falling, half hanging out of the wall as if it could collapse at any moment. "Does that look suspicious to you?"

"What, the small box with carvings all over it? Yeah, looks a little suspicious." Sam stares thoughtfully at the box before scanning around behind him. "There's no way we can open that without drawing attention to ourselves. Maybe, come back later when the house is empty and break the box open?" Dean shrugs. They could wait but that means they might have to hang around until nightfall and he'd much rather be at Bobby's on his scratchy sofa with a cold beer in his hand. 

"We could call Cas?" Dean regrets the words as soon as he says them because now Sam is staring at him with his puppy dog eyes and an overly sympathetic frown. "Are you sure? After what happened.." Sam tries and fails to conceal his grin when he says that and yeah, Dean definitely regrets saying them. He barely refrains from snarling at his brother and crosses his arms across his chest. Apparently, Dean dying from embarrassment wasn't enough for Sam. "Yes, I'm sure and what'd you mean by 'after what happened' nothings going to change because of it." Sam ignores Deans glare and attempts to shrug nonchalantly but it ends up as more of an awkward twitch halfway through. Dean sighs, noticing the way Sam's hand squirms by his side as if he wants to pat Dean like some stray dog on the side of the road. "Do you want me to call him?" 

The rumble of jealousy that crawls its way up Dean's throat surprises him because firstly, this is Sam he's talking to here; the most flirting Sam does is when he's trying to bribe old ladies into giving him some useful information for a case and secondly this is Cas, Dean's best friend -as he keeps so constantly reminding himself- it's not as if Sam and Cas are better friends than he and Cas are.  _Right?_  

Dean tries to swallow the sour taste in his mouth and almost succeeds. But something must have shown on his face because instantly Sam has his sympathetic frown back on his face and puts his hand on Deans' shoulder, squeezing it lightly.  _Jesus Christ his brother is such a girl_. "Actually, how about you and Cas go to the station and I'll see what I can find out in the morgue, then we'll get him to take a look when the house is empty?" Dean hates being spoken to like a six-year-old girl but he knows some-freaking-how his brother is trying to help, even though they're still most likely going to have to stay here until nightfall, so he nods. "Fine, I'll text you when we're done and we'll meet back in the motel or something," Sam nods back. "Sure." 

Once Dean has left the house and is back in the Impala he clasps his hands together and prays straight away. He already feels guilty enough for giving Cas the cold shoulder just because he can't keep his dick under control, he doesn't want to have to look into confused blue eyes as he makes up a lie about why he didn't want the angel to help. Cas doesn't respond to his prayer straight away and it's almost a relief,  _almost_. Dean shrugs to himself and starts up the Impala, stroking the steering wheel affectionately. It's been way too long since he was last behind the wheel of his baby and he forgot how relaxing it is to feel her engine purr beneath him, massaging away any other thoughts except to get on with the case. Dean presses down on the acceleration and continues forward.

**...**


	13. South Dakota, Sioux Falls - 'Personal' space

Dean fidgets uncomfortably in the blue cushioned chair and glances around the station's reception with faux interest. According to the blond at the front desk, "All available officers are out on duty," which is just a polite way of saying if it isn't an emergency then he'll have to sit in a cramped, non-airconditioned room until it turns into one.  _Apparently higher authority doesn't mean shit._ However sitting around means waiting for longer than ten minutes and, unfortunately for the receptionist, Dean has a patience that lasts for a grand total of ten seconds. So eventually, after being pestered by Dean nonstop for fifteen minutes, the blond ends up shuffling away into a room boldly titled as 'staff only' mumbling under his breath about how much of an apparent asshole Dean is.

Dean easily returns the favour by flipping the guy the bird once he's disappeared out of sight. Dean's the one who'll end up having to kill something or someone tonight so he has every right to complain.  _Jackass._ "He's only doing his job," Dean smiles before he remembers that he's meant to be annoyed and barely manages to sound convincing. "I thought I told you to stay out of my head." He claims glancing at the angel sat beside him. Cas shrugs. "I don't need to read your mind to know what you're thinking." He states simply. Dean smirks and arches his eyebrow as if to say 'oh really', using the sarcasm to cover his secret relief at how easy it is to talk to Cas. "However, he does steal from the station house charity fund when no one's looking so your portrayal of him is quite accurate." Dean shakes his head disbelievingly. "No, way." He laughs and lifts his head, trying to peer over the top of the reception desk and see if he can catch a glimpse of the guy. "Him, really?" Dean laughs even harder when Cas nods. "Huh, I never woulda-"

"Agent?" Deans cut off by a short man in an almost too tight suit standing in front of him. The guy looks as if being in their presence is the last thing he wanted today, especially if the way he's glaring at Dean is anything to go by. Dean tries his best to wipe the grin off of his face and look professional. "Yeah, that's me. Agent Wanek." Dean holds out his hand for the officer to shake but the guy has already lost all interest in him and is instead curiously peering over his shoulder. Dean follows the officer's eyes to Cas who's looking more confused than usual, with his head tilted to the side and a small frown creasing his forehead. He's pretty sure Cas doesn't know what's going on as Dean hasn't had the time to explain yet and had stopped expecting Cas to even turn up after he had prayed for the fifth time, but he hopes the guy at least remembers how to act like an agent. Dean drops his offered handshake. "And this is my partner Agent Evans." He offers a curt smile as he slyly shifts in front of the angel forcing the officer to look at him. The guy's lips curl into a smirk the first real sign of emotion Deans seen from him. "Partner huh?" He stifles a laugh before sauntering off into a room labelled 'lieutenant', leaving Dean to stand by the seats with red staining his cheeks.

"Did he not believe you?" Dean turns, startling when his chest hits into Cas and nearly knocks all of the air out of his lungs. "Jesus Cas." He gasps steadying himself using the angel's shoulder.

Cas glances behind Dean before answering, "Where?" And Dean  _just_  about swallows his laugh and instead settles with rolling his eyes. "No, not  _Jesus."_

"The guy he..um..." Dean swallows, trying to think of a dismissive response  _as apparently, the universe hasn't made things awkward enough,_ but the realisation of how close he and Cas are leaves him ironically speechless.

One of them should  _really_ step back. Standing chest to chest with a dude who's meant to be your completely professional -and in no way intimate- partner already looks weird, but standing chest to chest with your  _completely_ professional partner in silence while staring into each other eyes looks even weirder. Why is it that angels only seem to have a problem with personal space when they're around him? Is the 'heavenly host' purposely trying to make his life as uncomfortable as possible? He can barely take a step without having Cas breathing down the back of his neck.

Dean takes a deep breath, quickly regretting it as Cas' otherworldly scent draws itself around him. Dean has to physically turn away to get his eyes to look at anything but Cas and curses internally.  _Where the hell did that come from?_   _Christ, he needs someone to punch him back into reality._ "Let's just go to see if we can get any useful information out of him." He doesn't wait for a reply and quickly walks towards the lieutenant's office without looking back.

The guys sat in a black desk chair, carelessly flicking through a yellow file when they walk in. He barely even looks at either of them when Dean speaks, instead deciding whatever's in the yellow file, labelled 'T.S', is much more interesting. It's strangely unsettling how the guy seems to not give a shit that the FBI is in his office, considering half the cops showed up at the suspect's house just because they heard that the FBI were there. "We're here about the Julia Tesla case."

The officer rubs at his receding hairline as he finally puts the file down to gesture to the two cushioned chairs placed in front of his desk. "What do you wanna know?" Dean nods as thanks and sits down in the chair. "The report said Miss Tesla was cleaning when she witnessed the death?" The guy once again glances at Cas, and Dean grimaces as he feels Cas' awkward presence behind him. "She made the call at about four pm and had asked for the station to help her because she couldn't get out of her house. The fact that there was a dead body outside didn't come up until we had arrived so obviously we had no other option than to assume that Ju-Miss Tesla was a suspect but that assumption died quickly after her death."

"You knew her personally." Cas states. Dean glances at Cas and watches the cop shift in his seat. "No, no. Not  _personally_. I only knew her family as a result of her father's death." The officer's eyes dart to the left and Dean knows he's lying. "You knew her family, I would believe that that's very personal." Dean can practically feel Cas' demanding stare boring its way into the man's skull and he abruptly coughs to cut the tension in the room. "Did you find anything strange in the suspect's home?" 

"Strange? A woman watched her neighbour being beaten to death by something invisible and then later that day was killed by what could only be the same thing. Everything about this is  _strange,_ agent."  _Ah, now the guys twitchy_. Dean refrains from smirking and instead leans forwards in his seat, interrogating the man. "Why wasn't she in custody?" He asks. "Surely, if she was the only suspect then she should have been taken into custody?" 

"I-I- I don't know why she wasn't taken into custody, it wasn't my decision to make." The officer stutters out, his eyebrows furrowing as he searches for the right words. "You're the lieutenant, you're in charge, of course, it's your responsibility to make the decision, or at least to agree with it." Cas moves forwards around ten inches away from the desk and if the officer wasn't intimidated before he sure as hell must be now. Somehow the lighting in the room casts off of Cas, making him look like some kind of giant towering over the desk. It's during moments like this that Dean wonders what Cas' wings would be like, he pictures them towering over the angels head, sleek and huge.

"I did agree with it! I mean she was  _supposed_ to go into custody but her lawyer or someone came in and laid down about twenty different orders, there was nothing we could do." 

"So she wasn't put into custody because of her lawyer?" Dean asks. The lieutenant offers something between a nod and a shrug. "What's her lawyer's name?" The guy rubs the back of his neck and goes in his desk drawer. "That's the thing," He pulls out a thin beige folder which has at least twenty different things paperclipped to the inside and passes it across to Dean. "We searched her name in the database and there was no information whatsoever, not even a fingerprint."  _Jesus_ , Dean thinks,  _this is probably the most unorganised station he's ever been in._ "So you let an unauthorised lawyer in to see her  _apparent_  client?" The officer attempts a glare and nods. "Yes, apparently so." Dean sighs and flicks through the folder memorising the reports, scanning the photos, until something catches his eye. "She has a sister?" 

"Adopted sister. Her names Tara Tesla, originally Tara Lance but chose to keep her adoptive parent's name." The officer confirms. Dean closes the folder and stands up. "Do you have her address I'd like to ask her a few questions?" The lieutenant stands, the hard glare from the beginning returning, only this time, Dean can see through it to the obvious uncaring and dissatisfied man beneath. "Yeah, sure," He sighs. "I'll write it down for you." The guy grabs a pen from his draw and peels off a post-it note. Dean watches the guy's hands shake as he attempts to write down the address. He can see he's going through withdrawal symptoms; from what substance he can't tell, but he guesses from the bags under the man's eyes and the way he keeps rubbing his temples that it's alcohol. Dean knows the symptoms by now, he's seen them firsthand when he's looked at himself in the mirror. Just the thought of drinking sometimes gets his hands shaking again. He wouldn't say he is addicted, an _alcoholic_ , it's just that sometimes a few cold beers can help blur his memory after a particularly hard hunt.

The officer puts down the pen and hands over the post-it note, and then just like that, gone is the somewhat cowardly and fidgety man they had discovered and back is the glaring, hard-faced version. "Thanks for your help," Dean says, fitting the folder under his arm. "My pleasure." The officer says in a tight voice and offers his hand. Taking a leaf out of the lieutenant's book Dean ignores the handshake and turns, nodding his head for Cas to follow. 

**...**

Sitting across from his brother Dean taps his finger against the table, in sync with the patter of rain against the window. The weather has momentarily trapped them indoors with nothing to do but research as any evidence has been washed away by the rain, so for now, the only thing Dean has to do is scribble down ideas and wait for them to make sense. Sam sighs, breaking Dean out of his trance, and twists the cap off of two beers passing one to his brother. Dean nods in thanks and takes a swig, grimacing at the warm texture. "You find anything at the morgue?"

Sam blinks, obviously caught off guard and nods. "Yeah actually. Obviously, there wasn't much left of her face but her body was actually very interesting,"

"Ew Sammy, a crush on a dead body, really?" Dean pulls a disgusted face and smirks when his brother rolls his eyes. "Not that type of interesting. Her body had been injured differently compared to her neighbours. Hers looked more... intended?" Sam passes over his phone, showing Dean a photo of the victim's body. The face is unidentifiable, most of it smashed in and broken with her cheekbone sticking out of the muscle and the rest of the body isn't much better. Even with the blood cleaned off, the body is almost tanned with splotches of red and there are clear bruises across the chest and midsection. There are burns on her right leg that travel up from her ankle to her knee and splatters of cuts at the top of her thigh, whereas on the left leg the burns are much more sparse like whatever was burning her couldn't catch her long enough to make any  _real_  damage. "Jesus, what the hell could do something like that?"

"Hell if I know..." Sam frowns deep in thought, his forehead creasing as he looks over the photos. Dean puts Sam's phone back on to the table staring at it trying to piece this case together."Wait -what the- are those holes?" Dean slides Sams phone back to him, zooming in on the victim's arm. "What? Holes? You think it was a vamp that did this?" Dean frowns and shakes his head.There's no way a vampire could do this, not on its own at least.  _Unless it teamed up with another monster._ "Wait," Sam walks over to his laptop and pulls the screen open. "...I think I have an idea." Dean stands and watches over his shoulder.

"No way, it can't be. They're extinct." 

"Dean, since when is anything extinct? A couple of years ago you thought angels were made up and now look at us. It fits perfectly: the fire, the fang marks, the bruises and I bet if we looked at the neighbour's body again we'd find fang marks."

"But they're meant to be omens, like for natural disasters and crap like that?" 

"Maybe it got bored?" Sam guesses. "They couldn't always have been used as omens and it would explain the box," He points over his shoulder to the bed and elaborates when Dean frowns at him. "While you and Cas were at the station I went back to the house and it was empty enough for me to be able to take the thing off of the wall without anyone seeing. Anyway, I opened it and it was full of everything you would need to warn off these types of creatures."

Dean studies Sam for a moment, his eyes switching from looking at the photos to looking at Sams laptop as he tries to decide whether or not this is crazy; because, in reality, this is _really_ freaking crazy. "So you're saying she was killed by a Chimaera? As in the fire-breathing, head of a lion, goat-snake, Chimaera?" Dean asks incredulously. "It's the only idea we have right now, so yeah," Sam says as he scrolls through the countless pictures of the creature. It can easily be described as huge, its back spiralling upwards at least five feet in the air with spikes covering its spine and leading up to its mane. Its head is identical to a lion's except for a pair of soulless eyes and a sharp set of teeth hanging out of its mouth like white daggers. 

"The only problem is we have no real way of finding out who it is, or who it'spretending to be. They aren't exactly the most common creatures." Sam explains as he taps anxiously against his keyboard. "Well, it's gonna be a woman," Dean says, pointing to the first paragraph on the Wikipedia page. " _'The Chimera is generally considered to have been female despite the adorning on her head.'_ " 

"Okay so a woman, how do we find and kill her?" Dean shrugs, "I might have an idea about how to find her but killing her is going to be tricky, we're going to need a lot of lead." He says simply and walks over to his bed. "What? How'd you know?" Sam asks as he turns around in his seat watching his brother search through his duffel. "Dude, you do remember who our dad was right?" He throws Sam a chunk of led wrapped up in a handkerchief and pulls out a lighter and a few strands of blackberry root. "It's Greek mythology, Dad used to make me read this stuff before I went to sleep," Dean grins at the memory of hiding under the sheets of his motel bed with nothing but a lighter and a packet of sweets he'd kicked out of a vending machine to share with Sam.

"Gave me a hell of a nightmare one time when I thought a minotaur was gonna get me in my sleep." He chuckles and glances at Sam. His brother smiles back at him and Dean gestures to the now unwrapped chunk of led in Sam's hands. "Don't drop that we'll need it to make sure the bitch stays dead. Well, we might, it all depends on how well I can remember the lore." Sam sighs. "Guess I better call Bobby then." He fishes for his phone and pulls it out of his pocket. "Oh and have you got any news from Cas yet?" Dean shakes his head and sits down in the chair across from his brother. "No, nothing yet. We went to her sister's house but she refused to talk so I sent Cas back there to see if he could get anything out of her." Sam nods thoughtfully and glances around the room. 

Dean watches his younger brother glance around the motel room. He knows Sam's trying to be nonchalant, just waiting for what he feels is the 'appropriate' time before his curiosity gets the better of him and he asks the question on his mind. Dean recognises it in the awkward change of posture, the way his eyes roam the room and the small pout on his lips. "So..have you dreamt about him again?" 

Dean groans. "You're never going to let me forget that are you?" Sam smirks and crosses his arms over his chest. "Not until the day I die, and you didn't answer my question." Dean rolls his eyes, _his brother is such a little bitch._ He glances out of the window and watches the rain dribble down the glass and drop to the concrete, follows it as it bounces off of the sleek paintwork of the Impala. "No, I haven't  _dreamt_ about him again, and why do you care so much anyway?" Dean adverts his eyes, suddenly aware that the room has gotten a few degrees hotter. Sam shrugs and stands up. "It's all research Dean, you know to help with the curse you still have in case you've forgotten," Sam says with raised eyebrows. "Plus it's fun to see how flustered you get every time his name is mentioned." He laughs wickedly and just about dodges the beer cap Dean launches at his head. 

"I-I don't get flustered!" The argument would have sounded much more convincing if his voice hadn't broken halfway through,  _and Jesus it's gotten hotter in here?_ Sam laughs. "Yeah, of course, you don't," He turns and pulls the door open still grinning at his brother. "And obviously you won't mind if I ask Cas to join us on the case then?" Dean puts on his best shit-eating grin and stands up, crossing his arms over his chest. "Go ahead, in fact, I was just about to do it myself." Except he wasn't and is mostly just trying not to think about how Sam is going to torture him when they're all together. "Sure you were," Sam smirks and pulls out his phone as he closes the door behind him.

Dean rolls his eyes at the closed door, he doesn't know what he's so afraid of. He's already spoken to Cas and felt nothing that even remotely resembled what he felt in his dream, and so what he noticed the dude smells nice is noticing personal hygiene a crime now? Plus Cas has always smelled nice it would be impossible for him not to he's a freaking angel, and  _maybe_  Dean noticed the darker shades of blue in Cas' eyes that he hasn't noticed before, is noticing things a crime as well? Is he not allowed to look at his best friend? Cas is a powerful being that was around to see the earth be created, a soldier for God, someone who could turn anyone to dust just by tapping their forehead which is in every way awesome. So no, it's not like his dream has had anyweird effects on him, he has nothing to worry about...

_Right?_

**...**


	14. South Dakota, Sioux Falls - The Great Cascape

After an hour of trying to get Castiel to bring his feathery ass back to the motel, ("Dean are you even trying?" "Dude, what the hell do you think I'm doing, falling asleep? Dude's not answering.") Sam suggested two options: either the angel is ignoring them, meaning they're going to have to do more research and then sneak into the sisters house to check for clues, or the more probable answer,  _the one Dean hopes to hell and back hasn't happened_ : Cas has been caught and is in trouble, meaning Dean's earlier prediction of the sister being one-hundred percent evil is correctamundo; which also means they're going to have to sneak into her house and save the poor sonovabitch. Dean kinda hopes that a magical third option will appear  _(because ew-research)_ , maybe one that involves them finding the Chimaera and having Cas by their side while they gank it, or maybe a fourth option that reminds him of how much of an asshole he is for wanting to go on a hunt when he had a perfectly easy time sitting around at Bobby's waiting for this whole "curse" thing to blow over.

"So that's the plan? I hold her down and you stab her in the face!" Dean's surprised Sam's voice doesn't break along with the Impala's windows with how high he screeches.  _At least he knows if the hunting business fails -well fails more than it has already- he and Sam could go into the dog training business and use Sams voice as a freaking dog whistle_. Dean scowls at Sam who turns down the radio and frowns. "What you've got a better plan?" Dean asks, rubbing his ears to stop the slight ringing and giving the Impala an affectionate pat just for not combusting beneath him. "Look, Dean, I know you're worried but I'm sure Cas is fine." Sam assures, "He's still an angel, he'll be able to look after himself." His forehead creases in an effort not frown, but it comes out as more of a grimace. 

Just the thought of Cas being chained up somewhere, beaten and alone, makes his stomach flip and Dean has to open his window to stop the bile that's crawling up his throat. However, the cold air does little to settle his stomach and only seems to agitate it more, making it ten times harder to swallow the lump in his throat. "Yeah I know he's still an angel," He rolls his eyes at himself for sounding so defensive, but seriously this is Castiel against a creature that has the equivalent to the bible written about itself in Greek mythology. For all either of them know, Chimaera's have been around for just as long as angels have. "Doesn't mean he can't get hurt." He mumbles and rubs his callous hands down the leather exterior of the steering wheel as he turns into the motel parking lot.

**...**

After he and Sam got back to the motel they had continued with their research on Chimera lore, looking for any weaknesses that could help them. It took around an hour for them to realise what they already knew; lead was the only thing that could kill it. So with only one block of lead and about ten different knives because who the hell knows what will work, they drove to the house.

"It was a waste of time Sam!" Dean whispers angrily as he effortlessly throws their weapons duffel over his shoulder, the ground crunching slightly under his feet as he tries his best to quietly push open the iron gate. "He's been in there with that  _thing_ for at least two hours already." The gate opens, a minor creak echoing but it's barely heard over the sound of suburban life, luckily there's some kind of party across the road, so even in broad daylight, no one has seemed to notice two grown men sneaking into someone's house with a large duffel. 

The garden is how you would imagine a monsters garden to be- broken and dead. The trees are all leaning to the side their bark a sort of creeping mildew and their leaves curled in an unhealthy brown way. In the centre of the garden is a pond as large as a small lake with dirt coloured water laying still within the stone walls. Dead lily pads float sadly beneath a small cracked wooden bridge, balancing across the middle of the pond so that you would have been able to look down at the fish if there were any. Mostly every single strand of grass has been starved of water, the only pieces not dried to the bone are the ones underneath the pond that have been drowned by overflowing water. The rough wooden fence shielding the garden from all natural light has ivy cascaded over it, tendrils growing in every direction and the stone path is punctuated with weeds after every stone, clusters of defiant daffodils rearing their golden heads amidst the gloom.

They're definitely in the right place.

Dean startles when a loud bang rumbles from inside, the familiar sound of something hitting a wall. He cocks his gun nodding his head in the direction of the back door and waits for Sam to catch on. Sam nods back and Dean tries his best not to cringe at the crackle of the decaying grass beneath his feet. He creeps forwards ducking beneath an open window and leans gently against the wall trying to see if he can hear anything. He pauses, _is that breathing?_  Dean holds his hand over his mouth, gesturing for Sam to do the same. The breathing is somewhat heavier and although it's hard to hear thanks to the neighbours laughing loudly across the street it's unmistakably there, something breathing on the opposite side of the wall.

Sam frowns at Dean's hesitation and quickly pulls out one of the makeshift shivs they had made out of lead. Dean copies Sams actions and stands up to peer in through the window. The inside is like a living museum for the creepiest crap on earth. The walls look like they're made of paper and could crumble at any moment and Dean bets his best gun that, that's exactly what will happen when they go inside and start the fight. From what he can see its mostly just clutter- a lonely rocking chair with books and old dolls piled on top of it, pieces of scrunched up tissue and broken glass strewn across the floor as stray wires hang from the ceiling as if even they have given up on the house. 

So as Dean had said it was filled with real creepy shit. 

It's hard to see further than a curved staircase with most of the steps missing, but Dean's pretty sure he can see something,  _the edge of a door? A tv? A mirror maybe?_  He stands up straighter and leans towards Sam trying to get a full view of the room. Yeah a mirror, he can see himself in the corner of it and just below something staring back at him but he can't see it clearly, is that- 

Dean jolts backwards when something runs across the window, it's too quick for him to see what it was and he hopes to whatever or whoever has named themselves as God, that it wasn't the Chimera. Something that quick could do serious damage. Dean feels something move underneath his hand and glances down to see Sam staring back at him with a frown on his face. He hadn't even realised he had grabbed Sams shoulder and apologetically let's go when he sees how tight he's holding on. Dean curses himself mentally for being so jumpy and nods reassuringly to his brother before cautiously moving forwards. He reaches for the door and turns the handle wincing as it creaks loudly the sound somehow drowning out any other. 

He waits a few seconds nodding for Sam to follow his lead before standing up and carefully walking into the house making sure to move fast enough so that he can't be attacked but slow enough so that he can shoot anything that jumps out at him. Sams stood right behind him holding his gun out far enough so that Dean can see the tip of it in his peripheral vision, a subconscious movement he's done since he was a thirteen-year-old going on his first hunt. Dean gestures for Sam to scope out the room while he looks for Cas. They nod at each other in confirmation.

Shuffling through the hallway, trying his best not to get electrocuted by the loose wires hanging from the ceiling Dean reaches the only other door downstairs. The doors shut, well more like bolted to a close and after jerking the door handle a number of times he bends down to pick the lock.  _He hopes Cas is okay, hell he's just praying that the angel's still alive, at least then he and Sam can fix whatever's broken._  Dean knows that when this is over and he, Sam and Cas are huddled around a table in some shabby bar with a beer in their hands, that they're all going to laugh about this and just mark it down as another case solved, but even with that domesticated thought in his head it doesn't stop his hands from moving faster and the frown on his face getting darker. 

_Click._

Dean grins triumphantly, impressed that his lock picking skills are still as good as they used to be if not better. The same dark shadow washes over Dean and he quickly turns holding his gun up and aiming it at the nearest object, which just so happens to be a chair. He frowns, cursing under his breath.  _Seriously when did he start getting so jumpy?_  Dean pushes the door open. "Cas?" He whispers as he steps into the room.

Dean turns and freezes on the spot. Cas. The angel is laying on the floor surrounded by a ring of holy oil either nearly or entirely unconscious, the fire ablaze meaning it could have only been lit a couple of minutes ago, an hour at the most. Dean jumps over the ring of fire being careful not to set himself on fire or get incinerated and kneels down next to Castiel. His trench coat has slight rips in the sleeve and back but they don't look like claw marks more like Cas did this himself. "Hey, Cas come on buddy. We need to get you out of here." He lifts Cas' head onto his lap grimacing at the blood that drips out from the corner of the angel's mouth. Dean shakes Cas' shoulder but the movement is useless, he opens his mouth to shout for Sam but something catches the corner of his eye before he can articulate. 

Scratched faintly into the wooden flooring are strange markings, ones Dean has never seen before. The outer ring of holy oil has been used similarly to the way a devil's trap is designed, the circle is being used to keep the creature in one place and the pentagram used to actually keep it inside, except these markings are carved into the wood so that they don't touch the outer circle. Dean traces his fingers along the pattern, shifting slightly to reveal the rest of the carving. It travels around in a spiral shape, forming the occasional curl every once in a while before reaching the middle and curling into what looks like a letter. The letter somehow resembles both an 'E and an 'S' and the longer Dean looks at it the more complex it seems to get. He eventually gives up and quickly pulls his knife from his back pocket, forcefully dragging it across the floor and breaking the seal. 

The sudden pain in his forehead has Dean rearing back as Castiel throws himself into a sitting position, his eyes wide with shock. Dean rubs his forehead frowning at the angel and wincing at the shooting pains vibrating through his skull. "What the hell Cas!" He shouts, glaring at the angel.

 Castiel startles slightly before his eyes focus on Dean and he seems to get ahold of himself. "I-um-my apologies, Dean, you startled me." Dean rolls his eyes because yeah no shit and shakes his head dismissively at the guilty look on Castiel's face. "Don't worry about it, I'm pretty sure a bruised forehead is going to be the least of my worries after we get out of here." Castiel frowns and glances around the room. "Out of here," He echoes. "Where- Dean how did you do that." The hunter's eyes follow Cas' down to the carving he'd made through the markings and shrugs. "With a knife. Why?"

Castiel stares at him for a long time, his head tilting to the side every once in a while as if trying to figure something out before he blinks and looks away. "It's not of import." He answers, standing up and avoiding any form of eye contact. Dean frowns, in other words, it is 'of import' and Cas knows something important that he doesn't want to tell Dean. Dean stands up with the angel, subtly checking that everything is in working order with Cas's vessel, he doesn't need to repeat the time Cas had got stabbed and not even realised it until Sam mentioned the blood seeping through his shirt from under his coat, Cas claiming it was 'not of import'. Deans pretty sure every time Cas says those three words something bad happens, sometimes he wishes Cas would sort out his priorities. 

The hunter catches Castiel watching him and awkwardly glances away, picking up his knife to break the suddenly awkward tension. "Okay, so why don't we hose down this fire and get outta here," Dean says, stepping out over the fire. However, his foot barely even touches the ground before he's getting pulled back with such force that he nearly falls on his ass. "Cas what are you-!" Dean freezes mid-sentence when he catches sight of what Cas' looking at. The room is too dark see anything except a silhouette and a pair of red eyes glowing in the shadows. 

_Shit._

He turns to Cas for any signs of a strategic plan but the words die on his lips when he looks at the angel. He can tell straight away that this is going to get ugly, Cas is practically radiating holy-badass, his eyes glowing there own celestial blue almost showing the hidden unlimited power hiding beneath his vessel. The blue of his eyes cast their own shadow and Dean suddenly feels very small compared to the being beside him. He can't even begin to imagine the fear that would be thrumming through his body if he was on the other side of that glare. He'd probably obliterate just from the intensity of it all. Dean only tears his eyes away when the sound of something hitting the ground comes from the other side of the room. 

He glances at the books that are now scattered along the floor and watches in silence as the red eyes slowly move around the different pieces of furniture in the room, careless to what it knocks onto the floor, its silhouette moving in an almost cat-like fashion. At first, it had looked small no bigger than an average dog would be if it was sat down, but as it moves through the objects it gets larger, each time its eyes disappear behind something they reappear bigger and not as bright until finally, it stops. 

The creature stands in front of them its eyes barely visible, level to Dean. The monster wasn't stupid enough to look like one so when it finally steps out of the shadows it's in the shape of a woman. She isn't beautiful in the classical kinda way, no flowing curls or ivory skin, no piercing eyes but she had this look one that almost dragged you in and probably would have dragged Dean in too if not for the weight of Cas' hand on his arm. Her long dress drags across the floor by her feet which Dean now notices are bare, the dirt from the floor doing its job of turning the soles of her feet almost black. "Castiel, you're awake." Her voice is soft and sweet as if she's purring.

Castiel scowls at her, his blue eyes glowing. Dean can't stop imagining Cas evaporating this creature on the spot, waiting for the moment Cas blinks and she explodes into a million pieces before them.  _He will never admit it out loud but its... well, its freaking hot._  "No thanks to you." 

The woman smirks, her hair falling delicately behind her shoulder revealing claw marks scarred across her chest. "Yes, well capturing an angel isn't always easy. I had to improvise special precautions." The woman glances down at the floor as she speaks, the smirk disappearing off of her face when she finally looks at Dean. "I can see that your pet has done a thorough job of destroying my hard work." She gestures to the floorboards. "Who are you calling pet, bitch?" Dean snarls. The woman cackles raising an eyebrow at him in careless humour. "I think you need to put a tighter leash on this one." 

Dean isn't the only one who snarls at her this time but instead of coming up with a witty comeback Dean gets a full face of Cas and the angel blocks his view of the creature. "Dean I need you to stay inside the circle." He says calmly placing his hand on Dean's shoulder but Dean shrugs out of the hold. "Are you fucking kidding me Cas?" He whispers angrily. Castiel breathes in sharply through his nose and brings his face closer to Dean as if to make their conversation only between them. "She can't get in here, Dean. The markings you destroyed were the only things that could let her in, so you have to stay inside the circle, okay?" Dean hates the idea he doesn't want to stand here ideally like a bitch while Cas fights, he refuses to put Cas in that situation. "N-"

"Dean!" A shout from the opposite side of the house interrupts him and Dean spins around in panic towards where he had left his brother. "Sam!" He shouts back, moving towards the door only to get stopped, once again by Cas. "Dean you cannot leave this circle," Castiel says angrily. "I'll help Sam just stay inside." 

Before Dean has the chance to response Cas stretches out his hand and flicks it inwards making a chair hurl itself into the circle. Castiel blinks and the chair falls to the ground making a gap in the circle of fire. If Cas is scared, he doesn't show it. Everything from the way he holds himself to the look of unassailable confidence in his eye says he can do it. Castiel steps out of the circle with broad shoulders and the two creatures glower at each other. "If you hurt Sam Winchester I will not be merciful, tell your hounds to leave." He threatens. The woman gently pushes her hair behind her shoulder even though neither men believe her sweet and innocent act. "I don't have to listen to you recidivist." 

The fight felt as if it lasted for hours when in reality it was over within a few seconds. Cas had stepped forwards getting the first hit as the Chimera jumped back. Baring her teeth the creature tried biting the angel, but Castiel was too quick. She was only able to put one foot forwards before Castiel had his hand around her throat and was holding her down. At first, Dean had thought he was going to strangle her, to just squeeze the life from her lungs and in all honesty, Dean wanted to see Cas do it, just to see how much power the angel really had. 

At least he thought he did until he saw the bright glint in the angel's eyes as Cas shook his sleeve and pulled out a shiv of lead. It was only then that Dean had realised that Castiel had taken the shiv out of his pocket without him even realising which was, once again,  _really freaking awesome._ The angel had stabbed the Chimera in the chest without so much as a second thought before glancing at Dean telling him, "Don't move," and gracefully marching out of the door. Dean hears the sound of something hitting the floor and a whimper before silence engulphs the house.

**...**


	15. South Dakota, Valley springs- Mistakes were made

The bar is filled with hundreds of conversations told in loud voices, all of them competing with the rock music that dominates the atmosphere. The crowd is fairly rough, most of them bikers or locals and each of them ready to fight if they get drunk enough. The chime of glass on glass as the bartender mixes a few cocktails for a hen party is lost under the loud bass that jumps and makes the entire room vibrate. The bar is no less than a dump, a den for one night stands, alcoholism and old furniture. Everyone here has come with the same thought in mind- to drink until they forget their problems.

Dean watches as the bartender floats back and forth behind the bar the smell of cigarette smoke piercing through the strong scent of her perfume as it clings to her skin. Her black dress hangs from her shoulders, hugging her form and pulling tightly at her waist. She glances up and smiles delicately, fluttering her eyelashes as she pours whisky into a shot glass. Dean watches the swirling liquor as she picks up the glass and starts walking over to him. "Here ya go handsome, this one's on the house." She smiles prettily, fluttering her eyelashes once again drawing attention to her cat-like blue eyes before she flounces back over to the other side of the bar, passing out more drinks. Dean nods in thanks but doesn't touch his glass. He's suddenly not in the mood for drinking anymore.

"Dean, what's up with you?" Sam asks, gesturing to the drink. Dean glances at his brother and shrugs. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"You sure about that? Because I'm pretty sure she's into you and you barely even glanced at her." Sam scoffs, nodding his head towards the bartender. Dean tries not to frown but he can't help it. "Yeah well, I'm not really feeling it tonight." Sam opens his mouth but seems to change his mind and instead sips from his beer, glancing at Dean everytime he ignores the flirtatious smirk from the bartender.

Dean rolls his eyes. "Anyway where the hell's Cas? He said he'd only be a couple minutes." Sam shrugs and as if on cue Dean feels a rush of air come from behind him. "Hello, Dean." The full body shiver that rumbles through Deans body is way more noticeable than he would have liked it to be but it can't be helped. From the moment they left that house Castiel's presence makes his whole body feel hot and twitchy. 

_Dean doesn't think he even wants to evaluate why this is yet, maybe even ever._

Dean puts on his most convincing face and turns in his seat. "Hey Cas, took your time," He jokes pathetically taking in the sight of the windswept angel. "So, um you gonna stand there or are you gonna buy me a drink?" Dean groans internally at his phrasing and tries his best to not look like he's flirting with his best friend by ignoring Castiel's confused head tilt and turning around to face the bar. Sam glances at his brother most likely wondering why the hell he's acting like such an idiot and Dean shrugs shaking his head  _because he doesn't know what the hell he's doing either._

Castiel awkwardly slides onto the stool beside Dean and studies the bar. Although they've been to bars together many times seeing Castiel sat next to him, looking fairly normal for once, it feels strangely nice and Dean can't help the smile that stretches fondly on his face. "What would you like?" Castiel asks moving his face closer to the hunter. Dean stares at him for a few seconds waiting for the words to actually sink in instead of floating in the dark parts of his mind and he splutters stupidly. "A-um-what?" Castiel stares at him even more suspiciously than before, surveying Deans entire body and Jesus Christ that puts a few unwanted ideas in his head.

Dean glances away disgusted with himself and tries to occupy himself by chugging the closest drink to him which just so happens to be the whiskey the bartender had left him, leaving him with a bitter taste in the back of his throat as it burns its way down to his liver. The angel turns away from Dean as the bartender finds her way back to them and he holds out his hand to get her attention. "Can I have a beer please." He says with unflinching confidence and an almost-there smile. The bartender, now apparently forgetting about Dean, blushes a rosy pink and passes Castiel a beer noticeably letting her finger linger on the angels.

It makes Dean  _actually_ envy the woman, he wants that to be his hand, for it to be him to cup Castiel's neck and drag him forwards to kiss him until he's breathless and begging for Dean to throw him down and-

"Dean?" The hunter jumps and snaps his head towards Castiel who's awkwardly holding out a beer for him to take. Dean's whole body flushes both embarrassed and unbelievably turned on. He attempts to hide his face and reaches blindly for the beer. He grabs the bottle and nearly flinches when he feels Castiel's finger skim over his own, _that couldn't have been a coincidence,_ he glances at the angel who's smiling at him- and  _holyfuckingshit-_ how can he look so damn good? "Thanks." Dean gulps at the beer trying to drink away his thoughts.

_What the hell's wrong with him_?

Music suddenly bursts through the speakers filling the air with classic rock as the quickly packed bar buzzes with people. Random people press against Dean's back trying to get a drink from the bar and loud men and women scream and cheer on the dancefloor. Dean glances at Sam who nods towards the door gesturing for them to leave. He taps Castiel on the shoulder the single touch sending shivers throughout his body and repeats the gesture, tugging slightly at his trench coat. He ignores the little voice in his head telling him that he should take Castiel as far away from that bartender as possible and heads for the door. They wind their way through the bodies trying their best to avoid getting ground on and almost,  _almost_ , succeed.

Halfway through a girl snakes her way between Dean and Castiel, effectively tripping Dean and trapping Castiel. Dean very inelegantly trips over his own feet and barely catches himself before faceplanting the floor. Luckily, however, his embarrassment goes unnoticed as everyone continues to dance around him, stepping on him occasionally as he struggles to stand.  _Which is more than slightly embarrassing considering he is over six foot._  "Dean?"

Dean rolls pathetically onto his back and looks up, as soon as he does wishing he had stayed on his front. The spotlights hanging from the ceiling shine almost unbelievably bright making an ironic halo around the top of Castiel's head as he holds out his hand for Dean to take. Dean curses internally because someone up there must really have it in for him to do something so unfair as to make Dean look like some sort of damsel.

The angel frowns at Dean's hesitation and instead of waiting like a normal human being he chooses to reach down and pull Dean up, the action practically effortless as if he could lift the hunter's entire body using one hand, which in all honesty he probably could. Dean can't seem to find his voice. He feels his cheeks flush hot, and his stomach flutter. His heart pounds in his throat, threatening to break out as his eyes lock onto Castiel's. Dean's body feels entirely numb as he stands face to face with Castiel and he becomes painfully conscious of his stubble and the slight blood stains on his checkered shirt.

_At this angle, if he just tilted his head, maybe he could-_

Dean stumbles back effectively hitting a few people behind him and swallows hard.  _What is happening to him._ "Ah, um, thanks, Cas." He mumbles avoiding all eye contact with the angel. Castiel gestures towards the door where Sam's waiting, watching them both suspiciously and Dean follows behind the angel as Castiel parts the crowd and they both join Sam at the doors.

The sun has already fallen onto the horizon as they step out of the bar and into the fresh air and both brothers wince when the sun shines in their eyes.

Dean rolls his shoulders and leans against the Impala as a result of not knowing what else to do while Sam and Cas talk by the door. He cringes at the thought of having to sit in the car with Cas especially since his dick seems to refuse to stop thinking about the guy; he knows already what this could mean, he's not stupid but he knows he can't go through with it.  _How could he kiss Cas, even if he is cursed he knows he can't do it._

_He swears when he finds that witch he's going to kill her._

_What would kissing Cas even feel like? Soft? Warm? Rough? How would he taste? Would there be an otherworldly taste or would he just taste like he smells fresh and clean?_

Dean pushes himself off of the car the moment he feels his dick begin to stir in his jeans and decides that locking himself in the Impala is probably the best thing he can do.

_God, how is he going to survive this?_

"Dean?" Sam waves a hand in front of his brother's face and Dean tries his best not to flinch too hard. He blinks and turns to look at Sam. "Yeah what's up?" Sam frowns at him easily evaluating and absorbing everything Dean's thought about before he's even had the chance to blink. "Nothing." Dean rolls his eyes and opens the impala's door, sliding into the front seat. "Yeah course," He sighs. "Wheres Cas?"

Sam glances behind himself as he walks around the Impala to get to the passenger seat as if expecting the angel to be following him. "He's not coming, I asked him to do some research." Dean nods, almost disappointed but tries to contain his relief and waits for Sam to get in the car before turning on the ignition and pulling out onto the road.

It's not like he expected Cas to stay with them for the rest of the drive home, he knows that Cas prefers popping in and out of existence, but the angel was about to be killed barely an hour ago. Dean shakes his head and concentrates on the road ahead.

_When did he turn into such a girl?_

"-Or the motel?" Sam finishes, bringing Dean out of his thoughts and back to reality. "Yeah motel," Dean mumbles rubbing his eyes and carelessly dodging traffic as he tries to ignore the buzzing in his head from drinking nothing but cheap beer for the past couple days. Sam studies Dean, glancing out the window and then back to him.

"You know I've been thinking," He says, a vacant look on his face. "Before when I said that there might be a trigger to the curse, you know an object, place, a person?" He pauses. "Have you thought about that?"

Dean freezes and makes sure to look at the road and not at Sam. "No Sam I haven't," He says in a voice that sounds nothing like his own. "But I'll take a wild guess and say that you have?" He attempts to joke but Sam just nods ignoring Dean and continuing. "Well at first I thought it was me but-"

"You?" Dean says just shy of hysterical looking over at his brother. "Didn't you say I would have to have sex with this person! Well, I'm sorry Sam but I'm not recreating one of those freaky fanfictions." Sam's upper lip curls in disgust and he waves his hand in the air. "No! We're not recreating anything! Anyway, I don't think it's me." Sam yells quickly to stop his brother from going any further.

Dean nods sternly, "You're damn right we're not." And turns back to look at the road, desperately trying to find a motel for them to stay in so that their conversation will be over as quickly as possible. Trees, trees, ote? What the hell is a...

Dean curses as he drives past the entrance of a motel cursing the owner for not fixing the sign. "Okay so get this, at first I thought it could be me but then I worked out that it takes roughly fifteen minutes for the curse to kick in meaning that it couldn't have been me as there have been times when I haven't been around you and you've still experienced symptoms. So then when you mentioned Bobby I thought he could have something to do with it but in all honesty, you were around him even less than you were around me but then when you told me about your... dream. I realised that, well, it can only be Cas."

Dean nearly swerves off of the road at how fast he turns to look at Sam. "You've got to be kidding me, Sam." He says. Sam shrugs. "Come on Dean it makes sense, you've been around him since you got cursed and I've seen how you've been looking at him." He says glancing at Dean out of the corner of his eye. Dean scoffs defensively, turning into a motel parking lot and aggressively pulling the key out of the ignition. "I don't know what you're talking about Sam," He growls getting out of the Impala and walking towards the main office. "Our friendship is completely platonic, nothing else." 

Sam scoffs at him following quickly behind. "Dude you know the definition of platonic means that you're intimate and affectionate with each other?" Dean curses and turns sharply to face his brother raising his hand in warning. "No what platonic means is dude we're kinda close but I don't want to fuck you."

"So you're saying our relationship is platonic?"

"Ye-No, it sounds weird when you say it!" Dean whines walking up to the front desk and placing down a couple of dollars in exchange for a room key. "Two singles." He says to the slightly older woman, ignoring any means of conversation and holding out his hand expectantly. The woman easily slides his money into the register and holds up two keys. "We only got two doubles." She says in a thick country accent. "Great. Even better." He growls searching his pockets for more money and throwing it onto the counter before taking the keys from her. 

"Look, Sam," He says calmly. "You can think what you want but tonight I'm going to a bar, finding a woman getting this out of my system and tomorrow we're driving back to Bobby's." Dean throws one of the keys to Sam not giving him a chance to protest and walks out the door, already sat inside the Impala and driving out of the parking lot by the time Sam has followed him outside. 

**...**

Dean blinks, slowly coming back to consciousness.  _What the hell happened last night?_  The room is fairly dark so it's hard to tell what time it is, but judging by the stream of sunlight hiding behind the mould infested curtains he assumes it's morning. Without looking he can tell Sam's not in the room, as A he hasn't forced Dean to get up and B because Dean can't hear the sound of anyone else breathing. Dean clutches his stomach holding in the hangover that's trying to force last nights food up his throat. He ignores the nagging sensation in the back of his head that's probably going to end up being a headache and closes his eyes, rolling over and shying away from the light. 

He shifts carefully in the cold room and slowly grabs around himself in search of the covers. Dean grabs at something soft in front of him and pulls at it until it wraps around him. He shuffles closer to the soft warmth and sighs contently as his headache seems to dissipate. Dean rubs his head across the warm pillow and frowns at its hard texture and the arm-like shape it seems to have developed. He slowly opens his eyes cautious of the harsh sunlight.

Now what Dean had expected had been simple. He had expected a one night stand, a drunk blonde or if he was lucky a classy redhead what he sure as hell didn't expect to see was a pair of familiar blue eyes staring back at him with barely a centimetre between their faces.

There were many ways for Dean to react to waking up to a shirtless Cas hugging him whilst both of them lay in bed and he must have picked the stupidest one. "Hello, Dean." Castiel blinks at him watching him with almost fearful curiosity as Dean registers the situation around him.

"What the fuck?" He shouts throwing himself backwards in a tangled mess of sheets. "Cas what-why-I-what the fuck?" The moment Dean looks at Castiel he regrets it, the glow of an almost there tan and the sight of a lean body laid out in front of him makes his legs tingle in a way that normally only happens when watching Dr Sexy. "You...are you naked?"

Castiel looks down at himself as if only just realising that yes he is, in fact, naked and that yes his dick is, in fact, covered by a thin sheet of cloth that if pulled would reveal a whole lot more than Dean would ever like to see. A faint blush creeps across the angel's face and he glances away from Dean in an almost coy fashion which is pretty much unbelievable for someone who could obliterate you without a second thought. "You strictly told me that it is a custom for people to have 'pillow talk' naked." Dean curses himself for the smile that twitches onto his lips at hearing Castiel use sex lingo. He always knew he was a cuddler after sex, even though he'd never admit it. "Look Cas I was probably drunk an- wait did you say pillow talk? When did I have- who- did I call you or something?" 

Castiel nods, rolling his eyes. "Yes Dean, pillow talk and yes you were extremely inebriated and wouldn't stop praying for me," The faint blush seems to darken the more Castiel speaks and he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. "When your prayers began to become...inappropriate I thought I had better save you from yourself." Dean shuts his eyes cringing at the thought of using his best pickup lines on Castiel and buries his head in his arm to hide his embarrassment. "So...we came back here together?" 

"You don't remember?"

**...**


	16. Minnesota, Luverne - Mistakes were made 2.0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> !Contains smut!  
>  Be prepared to waste an hour on 4041 words

**...**

**17 hours earlier**

_What is Sam's problem? So what if Cas is the cause of the curse? It's not like Dean can never see him again just to prevent the effects from taking place. Not that any of that matters, he wouldn't fuck Cas against his will or well at all. They're friends!_ **_Friends!_ **

Dean turns into the first bar he sees which just so happens to be on the outskirts of Luverne Minnesota around half an hour from their motel and as expected a complete cesspool. As soon as he walks through the shabby bar doors he feels a mist of smoke and sweat attack his skin making his clothes stick to him. Dean's thankful that this place is such a dump he doesn't think he could handle getting bombarded by a bunch of drunk teenagers. He saunters up to the bar and sits down on a shredded stool.

He waves the bartender over, the rough, older man leaning on the counter with his tattoo-covered arms and leather-covered chest. He glances in Dean's direction and smirks before walking over to him. "Hey there pretty boy, what can I get ya?"

"Strongest thing you have and keep it coming." Dean holds up the first note that comes out of his pocket and waves it for the bartender to take. "Rough day?" He asks pouring a purple liquid into several small shot glasses. Dean raises his eyebrow at the drink but picks up the glass and swallows the liquid. "You don't know the half of it buddy." The bartender grins mischievously, pushing the rest of the drinks towards Dean and holding out his hand. "Jimmy."

Dean glances at the hand, wiping his palm on his jeans and giving Jimmy's hand a quick firm shake. "Dean."

**...**

After an hour, Dean's wallet is empty and he's surrounded by more than twenty shot glasses. His skull is pounding with every thump of music as he drops his head onto the bar, eyes falling shut.  _How much has he drunk? What time is it?_ "Come on Dean,"  _Who the hell is talking to him?_  "You can't sleep here." Dean lifts his head from the bar, a familiar face greeting him. He didn't even find someone to take back to the motel because he was drinking so much. Jimmy holds Dean's chin frowning at him and gently slapping his face to try and wake him up. "Dean, Dean!"

From this distance, Dean can't help but notice that Jimmy is good looking. He's got black hair gel slicked and smoothed to the left, his face is thin and his chin is covered in light stubble. The black eyeshadow coating his eyelids enhance the green of his iris' and if Dean squints they could almost be blue. He's tall and muscular his leather waistcoat making his arms look toned and Dean blindly reaches out to grab one of them just to feel the smooth skin against his fingers. His whole body feels hot and sweaty and he can't think straight because of the alcohol clouding his thoughts. "So hot." He mumbles leaning closer to Jimmy, the smell of sweat and alcohol radiating off of him. Dean feels a pair of hands wrap around his lower back pulling him closer until he's pressed against Jimmy from head to toe, Dean's head falling against the other man's shoulder.

"You wanna get out of here?" Jimmy asks, his lips skimming over the edge of Dean's ear.  _And yes Dean does want to get out of here, he wants to be at Bobby's with Sam and Cas._ "Yes." He slurs trying to hide from the flashing lights by burying his face in Jimmy's neck. Jimmy walks him outside a strong arm wrapped around his waist to hold him up.

The cold wind brushes past Dean chasing away the heat from his body so that he protectively pulls his flannel around himself. "You're really pretty, you know that right?" Jimmy pulls Dean to the side, the small alleyway barely fitting the both of them in. It smells of rotting garbage and smoke and the cold wind suffocates him. Dean's back touches cold metal and he whines at the feeling. "Cold," Jimmy smirks pulling himself closer to Dean, trapping him in place. "Should I warm you up sweetheart?" Dean pulls Jimmy closer seeking warmth, comfort, anything.

It's only a matter of seconds before Jimmy is kissing his neck and unbuckling his belt, reaching inside Dean's pants with cold hands. "You wanna go all the way?" Dean nods absentmindedly, imagining the hands are someone else's and that the breath on his face smelt earthly and fresh instead of ashy and sickly sweet.  _Cas._ He gasps as the hand in his pants starts moving, his dick growing harder with each movement.  _Fuck Cas quicker._ "You wanna touch me?"  _I_ _want to touch you, I want you here in front of me_. "You top or bottom?"  _I don't care what you want me to be I'll let you be inside me. Fuck what I'd do to have you inside me._  "Whatever you want."

Jimmy smirks lifting Dean's top and kneeling down still rubbing his hand up and down the length of Dean's cock. He trails kisses down Dean's stomach gently licking the base of his penis. Dean shudders gripping the man's hair, it's stiff and difficult to get a good hold of.  _I wish this was you Cas, I wish you were on your knees in front of me staring at me with those blue eyes I think I'd come just at the sight of it._

Dean lazily thrusts his hips forwards aiming for Jimmy's mouth. He just wants to leave. He's embraced by the warmth of the other man's mouth for less than a second before it's taken away from him and he's exposed to a cold gust of wind. Dean opens his eyes not aware he had closed them and freezes in place.

_When had Jimmy shrunk and changed clothes?_  His breath catches in his throat at the sight before him. Jimmy is practically cowering on the ground as Castiel holds his collar. He's speaking but Dean can't work out what he's saying. Everything happens in slow short bursts one second he's standing exposed in front of his best friend watching him scare the crap out of some random bartender and the next he's lying down on something warm and soft.

Dean lifts his head, blinking at the lights. Castiel must have taken the opportunity while transporting him to drain the alcohol out of his system because now he's fully awake, staring at the angel. "What-Cas what the hell?"

He glares at the angel waiting for some kind of explanation until he's interrupted by a low sardonic laugh, one that only his unbelievably sarcastic and annoying little brother could make. Dean tries not to cringe as he turns to see his brother standing by the door with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. "What the hell were you thinking?" He asks stepping forwards and scowling at Dean.

"What? Screw you Sam I'm not under freaking house arrest I can do what I like." He argues scoffing at Sam and sitting up fully, awkwardly pulling up his zipper in the process. "If I wanna get some I will okay?" He stands and turns to face Castiel. "And  _you_ have no business getting in the way of that."

Castiel watches him obviously unaffected by the half-assed threat and not breaking eye contact. "When you are cursed, potentially dangerous and unpredictable  _you_ become  _my_ business, Dean." He growls. The thought of being anything that belongs to Castiel sends a pathetic thrill through Deans body and he finds himself staring at the angel a lot longer than necessary.

He shivers violently in the suddenly humid room trying to swallow around the lump in his throat as waves of heat course through his blood making him stumble back against the motel bed. "Dean?" Castiel steps forwards holding his hands out as if preparing to catch him the look of anger now replaced with one of worry.

Just the thought, the simple idea of having Castiel's hands on him makes Dean's stomach contract so violently that he falls back on the bed clutching desperately at his waist as he buckles over, a new outbreak of heat flooding through him.

"Dean, what's wrong?"

A strangled moan leaves his lips because Castiel  _really_  needs to stop talking. With each word his stomach jumps and aches all the more, he keeps swallowing and his throat keeps clenching but no matter what he can't stop the warm feeling rising in his chest. Images of Castiel flash through his mind: them together, on top of each other, watching, kissing,  _touching_. Every inch of his body is burning with raw want. He wants to touch, he needs to touch.

_Oh shit_.

"No, no, no-nonono." Dean shakes his head furiously. "It's fucking Cas." Sam raises an eyebrow like he's about to retort but stops himself when he sees the look of genuine pain on Dean's face. "No way." Suddenly Dean's skin feels like it's on fire and he involuntarily gasps as his lungs squeeze tight with some kind of invisible pressure.

At first, he thinks he's having a panic attack, his lungs refusing to cooperate with his breathing as he tries to calm down but as soon as he begins to calm images of Castiel come flooding back into his brain, pushing him right back into panic. He reaches out and quickly Sam rushes over and lays a hand on his shoulder urging him to calm down. Dean gasps at the touch stretching out then recoiling like a broken slinky.

His body feels as if it's overloading his senses vibrating and thrumming through his bones. Dean closes his eyes tightly praying for some sense of relief anything to suppress the want dragging him away from reality. It's when suddenly he feels a lightweight on his chest that he finally stops panting.

Dean glances down to see Castiel's hand pressed down on his chest. He's not gasping or stuttering, however, it does nothing to calm the constant bombardment of want seemingly coursing through his veins. "Fuck..." He gasps. Sam finally stops pacing and turns to look at Dean. "Okay...okay, so how do we solve this?" Castiel glances from Sam to Dean before casually removing his hand from Dean's chest. Instantly the pain comes back and Dean grabs desperately for Castiel's hand pressing it into his chest.

He grits his teeth and growls. "I don't care how we solve this just don't move your hand."

Castiel watches him cautiously, keeping his hand on Dean's chest as he slips his arm out of his trench coat before trading hands and repeating the action for the other arm. "Well, Cas can't you just...you know." Sam holds up two fingers to explain what he means but Castiel sighs. "I've told you, Sam, my grace cannot fix the curse it's not strong enough. Realistically you need a stronger angel to break it."

Dean may be fucked up right now but he doesn't miss the slightly distant look in Castiel's eyes and the frustration boiling behind his iris. But speaking isn't an option so instead, he prays through gritted teeth hoping it will get through to the angel.

_Don't do anything stupid._

It seems to work and Castiel shakes himself out of his recklessness, glancing at Dean before looking back at Sam. "All I can do right now is wake you up." Dean slaps a hand on the mattress to draw attention to himself because  _hello_ could be dying man here. "Well if you can wake me up can't you knock me the hell out?" Castiel seems to grimace as he scans the suddenly very interesting bedcovers beside Dean's head. "I'm afraid with you Dean I can  _only_  wake you up. If you were to fall asleep during this... stage, it could be very harmful to you." He explains solemnly.

"Oh, okay because it's not like this is causing me any harm right now!" He says slightly hysterical. Dean swears if he ever meets that witch again he's going to kill her, then bring her back to life just to kill her again.

"That would be pointless Dean." Dean lifts himself up onto his elbows and scowls at the angel for reading his thoughts, but of course, Castiel is unaffected by it. "As I was saying if I was to put you to sleep the curse would only intensify as during sleep your mind is fully capable of making your imagination seem like real life so theoretically you would be 'stimulated' so much that you would 'kick the bucket'." Castiel takes his hand off of Dean's chest to air quote his words and Dean can't help the guttural moan that practically rips itself from his chest. He looks up at Castiel and quite literally almost comes in his pants.

Whatever this curse is doing to him it's the most intense feeling he's ever experienced, somehow Castiel is freaking glowing and not the stupid teen movie type of glow, the full-on angel-hidden-in-a-vessel-could-rip-your-heart-out-at-any-moment type of glow and holy fucking shit Dean might actually do it, he might seriously come in his pants in a room with his brother and best friend.

Dean groans and rolls onto his side so that he can't see Castiel anymore, not even ashamed that he's palming himself through his jeans. His dick has gone from limp to rock hard in a matter of seconds just from looking at Castiel's face. He's not sure whether he's going to scream in frustration or faint from how quickly all the blood runs south. "Fuck... _Cas_." The words are out before he can bite down on them, forcing his eyes shut partly from embarrassment and partly from the raw energy vibrating off of the angel. "Jesus, Cas put your hand back on him!" He hears Sam yell and finally that wonderful hand is back on his chest and he grabs hold of it breathing heavily.

At some point, Sam moved towards the door in what Dean expects was an attempt to escape as soon as he started touching himself. It takes them all a few moments to pull themselves out of the awkwardness filling the room and it's only then Dean seems to notice that his thumb is carefully rubbing Castiel hand. He quickly notices Castiel staring at it as if he can't remember why his hand is there in the first place, making Dean snatch his hand back and glare at the angel.

Now that his stomach has finally stopped lurching he feels bruised inside. "I told you not to move your hand." This time it gets a reaction and Castiel glares back. "And I told you I don't take orders from you."

They stare at each other, glaring to the point where Dean feels a cold sweat glisten on his skin. He grits his teeth. "I'm not fucking Cas." He argues in a voice that's just a tad too high. Because fuck he  _wants_ to. Castiel glances at Dean and raises an eyebrow, a suddenly amused glint in his eyes.

_Fuck_.

If this happens Dean will be the one getting fucked. Disgusted with himself, because hey little Dean this is fucking  _Castiel_ , his dick hardens impossibly more and he feels a wet patch begin to form on the front of his boxers. "I'm not  _gay_." Dean stutters out even though his legs widen on their own. He's surprised Castiel isn't in pain considering how hard Dean's squeezing his hand. "Well, what are we going to do!" Sam asks desperately, brushing a hand through his hair. Dean glances up at Castiel and that's when he sees it, as plain as day in Castiel's eyes. His pupils are blown wide, his lips parted.  _He fucking wants to do it._ You would have thought Dean's eyebrows were trying to connect with his hairline at how high they raised and when Castiel glances away he knows he's hit the nail on the freaking head.

Castiel glances at Sam and frowns. "We may need some time." Sam raises his eyebrows and swallows. "Oh... okay! Right-um-yeah," He stumbles over his feet to get out of the room as quickly as possible trying to get his brain to think about anything other than what will happen in the room after he leaves. Castiel watches the door close before turning back to Dean a spark of something malicious in his eyes.

Castiel pauses before he lifts his hand off of Dean's chest and drops it to his side. He studies Dean for a moment as he begins clawing at the bed beneath him before Castiel cautiously raises his hand to unbutton the first button on his shirt. Dean watches, entranced, as he seems to move in slow motion, each button revealing a new patch of beautiful skin. Castiel continues undoing his shirt, pulling it down his arms and past his lean stomach until he's shirtless. Dean's fingernails dig into the bed covers, trying to ignore the voice in his head that's telling him to get on his knees in front of this man, this angel, and do whatever he asks.

" _Cas_ ," Dean pulls at his shirt, failing to stop his hands from shaking and undo the buttons on his flannel. "Cas, I-I can't." Dean tries to get out actual words but his tongue repeatedly trips over itself and the words turn into mumbles of  _"Cas"_ and  _"please"_. The angel leans over him purposely avoiding touching him just teasing him with the infinite 'what ifs' as he hooks his finger under the collar of Dean's shirt, pulling it down and pressing a slow and gentle kiss to his collarbone. Dean gasps, his hands trying to move only to realize he's being held down. "Cas? Wha-" The angel avoids the question instead choosing to place his tie in Deans' mouth to stop him from speaking.

Castiel smirks at the shocked look on Deans face and leans closer, his lips sliding over the other man's ear. "You seem so desperate to prove your sexuality Dean but from what I can see you have no problem with that when it comes to me." He whispers, pushing his body forward so that they're connected from head to toe. "I-I'm not," Dean loses his train of thought as his eyes roll back into his head and a litany of breathy moan escapes his lips.

Castiel smirks and rolls his hips forwards. "And I'm utterly indifferent to sexual orientation, so we don't have a problem." Dean moans at the friction and reaches up to grab Castiel's hips, pulling them closer. Castiel's bare chest against Dean's clothed one is like torture, a fire setting him alight and forcing him into a mad frenzy of kissing, biting and pulling, doing everything in his power to get the angel closer.

Dean pulls the tie from his mouth as Castiel grinds down harder, pushing Dean into the bed with every movement. He gasps, spreading his legs to get more friction. Licking his way across the side of Castiel's neck Dean grins at the way he makes the angel's breath stutter and kisses up his chin to his lips taking in everything Castiel will give him.

It takes all his remaining strength to speak and he only manages a few words. "Stop me, Cas." Whether he would die or not he refuses to do this if Castiel isn't okay with it. But he quickly gets his answer as Castiel grabs hold of his chin, watching him with glowing blue eyes. "No." He growls.

Their lips connect once again. Every kiss has a raw intensity - breathing fast, heart rates faster. Then before Dean can process his movements Castiel is stripping his clothes from his body, ripping them off of his skin as if they offended him by being there. Their skin moves softly together, like the finest of silk.

Castiel places his fingers in front of Dean's mouth, who willingly takes them between his lips, making them wet and slippery, coating them in saliva. He thrusts gently into Dean's mouth just to tease him before slowly pulling them out with an obscene pop. Castiel kisses his way down Dean's body, swallowing his cock effortlessly as he slides a slick finger into his hole.

Dean winces as his muscles tense around Castiel's finger, but after circling the hole a few times, his body relaxes and Castiel presses inside faster.

The angel moves his mouth to Dean's collar bones and chest, enticing a moan from his lips as he desperately grabs at him. Dean pulls at Castiel's hair as his back arches, thrusting to find any form of friction. Castiel nips gently at the inside of Dean's thigh, making him jerk and moan even more. Then suddenly his fingers find Dean's prostate and stars burst in his vision turning him into a shivering mess of pleasure his only abilities are to moan and thrust back against the best form of ecstasy.

"Cas!" He gasps. "Please, Cas," Dean would almost love to say he doesn't know what he's asking for but unfortunately he does. He wants to be destroyed, for Castiel to absolutely wreck him and there's nothing on this earth that will stop that feeling now that it's been discovered.

"Dean," Castiel groans, rubbing his straining erection against Dean's thigh.

He withdraws his fingers from Dean's hole, chuckling when he groans in protest before he lubes himself up with a mixture of his spit and precome and then positions himself in front of Dean's entrance.

He breaches him slowly, watching the man's expression the whole time to look for any hint of pain and then he's inside. Castiel sighs as he watches his cock disappear inside of Dean, trapping him and sucking him in.  _It feels so good_. 

When Castiel is fully inside of him, he wraps Dean's legs around his waist and slowly pulls out. Dean shudders and moans. "Cas," He gasps. It's so fucking thick and warm, stretching him until he's so unbelievably full. When Castiel starts to move, the noises that leave Dean's mouth are bordering on ridiculous in volume as he gasps in broken English and moans around each word. Castiel changes Dean's breathing with every thrust, hearing his moans timed to Castiel's body forcing delicious gasps and sighs from the angel.

Dean moves his hand to grab Castiel's hair, pulling at it as Castiel mewls. His thrusts speed up with the added pain and he starts hitting Dean's prostate with every movement. Dean arches and clenches around Castiel. 

Neither of them are going to last long with the vicious pace of Castiel thrusts.

Then all at once he stops and kisses from Dean's chest to his stomach, his hands light; he's licking and biting at his flesh, sucking dark bruises into his already abused skin, watching his reaction, feeling how his legs move and watching his body writhe.

And in a second, he's on Dean again, fucking him harder, just long enough to intoxicate his mind before stopping again. Dean arches his back as Castiel pounds into him, screaming out and digging his nails into Castiel's back.

After a few more moments of thrusting and Castiel stroking Dean's cock, they both cum; screaming each other's names as their climax rushes over them. Dean releases onto himself as Castiel shudders his release into Dean in a thick warm liquid.

They collapsed against each other and pant as they come down from their high. Dean swallows as he stares at the ceiling somehow used to the weight of another body on his chest. It's only when Castiel pulls out and is stood naked in front of him that he realises what they have done and before he can panic his eyes fall with exhaustion and the world disappears in a blur.

**...**


End file.
